Cat's Paw
by aithomenos
Summary: An alternate Evangelion scenario where Misato and Ritsuko are lovers. The story intersperses the past with the present to explore the complexity of their relationship. Now expanded. WiP
1. Chapter 1

**Cat's Paw**

**Fandom**: Neon Genesis Evangelion

**Characters**: Misato, Ritsuko

**Disclaimer**: Nothing here is mine. There's no profit being made of this...unless you count having a darn good time writing this as profit…

**Warning**: Language and sex

**Summary**: What if Misato and Ritsuko fell in love? This scene takes place at the bar, but Ritsuko helps Misato home instead of Kaji. A discussion about the many sides of love…some of which are not so pretty.

** One-shot**

She loved lounge music. Some people may call it boring, but there was something strangely soothing about Nat King Cole that just had endless appeal to Misato.

Misato flipped her hair over her shoulder, giggling at a private joke. "It's getting late. I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Kaji looked at Misato's flustered face and assessed that his companion was drunk off her rockers. He teased, "Are you leaving me alone?"

Turning around, Misato stuck her tongue out in response.

This earned a small chuckled from Kaji, who returned to his drink, internally marveling about Misato. His thoughts turned to their years in college and to those tennis sneakers that Misato sported. He could still smell the fruity perfume that Misato use to wear, and he could recalled the countless mornings when, waking up next to her, he would just lie still, and watch her steady breathing.

"High heels," Kaji marveled outloud, "We haven't gotten to drinking together lately, have we?" There was a slight hint of regret in his voice.

Ritsuko smiled, remembering those evenings when the three of them would go out just to get drunk just for the sake of it. Of course, Misato usually ended up the only one utterly wasted, leaving Ritsuko and Kaji to take care of her.

There was one particular evening that stood out vividly in Ritsuko's memories.

* * *

It was the night after finals, and Misato had suggested that they go out to celebrate. After clearing out most of the bar, the three of them trekked back to Kaji's house with a nearly comatose Misato on Kaji's back. Once again, Misato did most of the drinking while her companions spurred her on.

"I'm a gonna stay with Kaji tonight, Rit-chan," Misato said, slurring her words before falling, headfirst, onto the couch.

Ritsuko had only smiled as Kaji asked her if it was safe for her to go home by herself. She had reassured him that everything was alright.

"After all, I'm not Misato," and, with that, Ritsuko left.

The walk home was uneventful until Ritsuko realized, halfway, that she had left her purse somewhere in Kaji's house after helping him with Misato. She decided to walk all the way back to Kaji's place for it.

The door was unlocked, so Ritsuko let herself in to scourge the coach for her purse.

That was when she heard it.

The sound of Kaji and Misato making love came clearly from the bedroom.

Ritsuko's blushed and narrowed her eyes, embarrassed to have overheard her friends in the throes of passion.

He should really learn to lock the door if he's going to be doing things like this. Ritsuko thought, slightly angered.

Sighing, she picked herself up from the floor and walked towards the door.

Ritsuko was about to leave when she heard her name. It was muffled but she could still make it out.

They're talking about me? During sex?

Somewhere in the back of Ritsuko's head, her conscience screamed for her to leave. Still, another part was curious. After all, her friends were discussing her behind her back, and in a rather…unusual situation.

Before she had time to sort out her thoughts, her feet were moving quietly, as if on their own accord, towards the bedroom.

She found herself kneeling next to the door, which was, true to Kaji's habits, slightly opened. The lights were still on. Despite her reservations, she cautiously peered at the couple on the bed, naked and entangled in the sheets.

Misato was snuggling against Kaji in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Her eyes were half-closed, in quiet contemplation. She reached over to put out another cigarette in the tray next to them.

Kaji nuzzled Misato's cheek, "We shouldn't worry about her."

Misato pulled away, "I'm serious though, Kaji. And don't try to change the subject. I can tell something is wrong with Ritsuko."

"How?"

"It's simple, I'm her roommate. Roommates know this sort of thing."

"Did she leave you a post-it note that said so?"

"You're just trying to brush me off," Misato insisted, "But you can think whatever you want. Call it women's intuition, but I saw how she was in the bar today. She hardly said a word. I think she's still hung up on that professor…even if she doesn't say it."

Kaji snickered at the "women's intuition" part and just shrugged. He clearly wanted to turn the subject off.

Ritsuko felt some indescribable pain that squeezed her heart. Confusion quickly set in at whether she feel touched with Misato's concern for her happiness or whether she should be upset with Misato's betrayal of confidence.

No one was ever supposed to know about Ritsuko's twisted and torrid affair with the older man. That is, no one except Misato. Yet here she was, spilling all to the man besides her. Ritsuko couldn't help but wonder what other secretsMisato left with Kaji.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Kaji flipped Misato onto her back.

"This again?" Misato complained, "Can't you be a little more innovative?"

"Like how? Do you mean fantasies?"

"Ask me."

Kaji contemplated a second before answering, "I want to you from behind."

Misato shrugged off the sheets seductively and move into position, much to Kaji's delight. As a sign of appreciation, he nuzzled and kissed Misato's back. He was already ready.

Ritsuko couldn't move as the the sight before her held her in a dreamlike trance. She couldn't comprehend why on earth she couldn't pull away, and leave Kaji and Misato in privacy. She had also never, in a million years, imagined that she would see Misato, that talkative and silly girl, like this. She was naked, moaning, and begging. Misato looked…well, she looked like a grown up. It made Ritsuko feel inadequate somehow, like a child.

Eventually it was over.

Ritsuko turned and left, as Misato and Kaji recovered from one of their many sexual escapades. She closed the front door behind her slowly, her head low.

Walking home, she felt overwhelming guilt and shame wash over her. Ritsuko didn't know how or why it happened, but there was no denying the quiet tears that ran down her flushed cheeks.

It would take a while for Ritsuko to wash away how dirty she felt. She didn't know how long would it take for her to remove the stain. And what made matters worst was that she knew she had become aroused by the entire spectacle. She could feel the wetness between her legs, and cursed at herself for being so weak, for being a shameless voyeur.

Ritsuko's purse, the catalyst for the entire mess, sat alone at the legs of Kaji's couch, forgotten once again. Misato would have to remember to return it to her roommate tomorrow.

* * *

"Misato's drinking too much, isn't she. She's acting a little out of control," Ritsuko said, washing away the unpleasant past by focusing on the present.

Kaji chuckled, "Sometimes one drinks to keep oneself under control. We all do it."

"As someone who lived with her, your words carry a weight of truth," Ritsuko said as she sipped her drink again.

"Well, I did live with her," Kaji reminded Ritsuko, "but that was before she started wearing heels like a real woman. Before you."

Ritsuko looked up from her drink in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Working in intelligence…that sort of work gives you access to all sorts of knowledge. Some more important than others," Kaji responded with knowing smile. When Ritsuko didn't answer, Kaji looked away.

"So…," Ritsuko began, "they know then." Kaji nodded, while Ritsuko considered what he was thinking. She sighed, "I would've figured that."

And then there was silence.

Minutes pass and they remained that way, separated not only by distance between the seats but also by Misato, who was still powdering her nose in the restroom nearby.

Finally, Kaji broke the silence with words that pierced through Ritsuko's heart, ripping it open.

"You know…," Kaji paused, debating about whether or not he should say what he said next. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke, in a voice so sad that it seemed to touch upon the deepest and darkest depths of his soul, "I still love her."

Ritsuko turned to study Kaji, whose eyes wouldn't or couldn't meet with hers.

What could she say?

* * *

But Ritsuko knew that she couldn't tell him, in all honesty, that she was sorry.

How could she possibly apologize for loving someone?

Instead, her eyes glanced down at her empty glass. She realized that she would need another refill soon.

"Kaji, its Misato's decision…" her words trailed off, unsure of what she wanted to say, but knowing that there was really nothing to say. Except that she could feel for him in ways that he could never even begin to imagine.

It frightened her.

She looked sideways at Kaji, who stared ahead of him at something she couldn't see. In his silence, however, there was an unspoken understanding, an acknowledgement that what Ritsuko said was the truth.

He opened his mouth to tell her something, but Ritsuko would never find out what it was.

"What's all this?" Misato asked playfully, interrupting their exchange. She took her seat in between Ritsuko and Kaji, her body facing Ritsuko. Her eyes, while glazed over from intoxication, still trained loving on Ritsuko.

Kaji laughed, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Ritsuko could tell from his tone that he was masking his feelings under a façade of happiness again. Probably to protect Misato. She figured that he probably also wanted to close this topic. But she couldn't let him go without letting him know. "Oh, by the way Kaji," she started, in a casual tone, "thank you. For being honest."

He smirked, "Only with the ladies."

"As if," Misato said, sticking out her tongue again at him. He gave her a warm smile, before looking over at Ritsuko. She didn't look back at him.

"Anyways, I lost once before. It's not my style to keep fighting a battle I'm sure to lose," he reassured Ritsuko.

Misato glanced back and forth at Kaji and Ritsuko, wondering what he meant by that. She had the nagging feeling that she had just missed something important.

Kaji picked up his glass and drained the last of his martini. "Well," he announced, "I've still got some work to do."

"Really?" Misato asked, giving him the puppy dog look. She obviously wanted the three old friends to spend more time together.

Again, he just smiled at Misato, giving no answer. The red pouch next to his glass caught his attention. "Oh yeah, I forgot to give you this. A souvenir from a cat." He pushed the pouch over to Ritsuko. Kaji then stood up and bowed to both girls before leaving.

Misato watched as he disappeared out the front door and into the darkness of the night. She turned over to Ritsuko, who slowly pulled on the tugs of the red pouch to reveal Kaji's gift, a tiny broach engraved with the cat.

"Should I even bother asking?"

Ritsuko smiled at Misato's curiosity. "There's nothing to ask about," Ritsuko replied, placing the broached inside her purse and grabbed her cellphone to dial Misato's home number.

Without Ritsuko's prompting, Misato leaned over to speak on the cell, "Hi, Shinji? It's me. I'm with Ritsuko. We're going to be out drinking. Don't wait up."

* * *

Pen-Pen waddled over to the refrigerator, pulling out another can of beer. Although the can was slightly smaller than him, he still managed to carry it across the kitchen to his own refrigerator-home. On the way there, he paused to observe one of those strange two-legged creatures that lived with him. This one was currently on the phone, intently listening to Misato.

"Yes…, okay, later," and with that, Shinji hung up the phone. He wasn't the least surprised that his guardian was staying out for the night.

With Ritsuko…

His thoughts were interrupted when Asuka stepped out of the shower, toweling off her wet hair. She asked, "Was that Misato?"

"Yea, she'll be late, so don't wait up for her."

Asuka didn't seem too pleased to hear this at all. Shinji figured that, for Asuka, spending the evening alone with him wasn't a prospect that she was looking forward to.

"Is she going to stay out until morning?" Asuka asked, with a slight whine in her voice.

"I don't know. She's with Ritsuko."

"Oh…then…that's okay."

One of Shinji's eyebrows rose in curiosity, and he had to ask, "Why is that?"

"Are you an idiot? If she was with Kaji then she'll probably gone all night doing god-only-knows what," Asuka stated, in her "as-if-you-didn't-know" voice.

Shinji blushed, "Asuka..."

She interrupted, "But if she's with Ritsuko, I don't have to worry."

So…, Shinji mused, she's concerned about Kaji.

Asuka let out a sigh of relief and continued to towel off her hair, brushing Shinji out of her thoughts. This was her rest and relaxation time, so she'd rather not spend it thinking about unpleasant people. Besides, she'd much rather be thinking about Kaji. Perhaps she could persuade him to take her shopping the next time she saw him.

Pen-Pen watched as the red-head walked towards the TV, before she fell on one of the numerous pillows strung about the living room. He waddled after her, intending to snuggle next to her.

Asuka doesn't really know anything. Shinji's eyes narrowed as he watched Pen-Pen pull a small pillow up besides Asuka.

Ritsuko. He blushed, remembering how he had caught Ritsuko and Misato having sex in her bedroom. And he blushed even more, thinking about all the possible activities that Misato might be engaged in with Ritsuko tonight.

Shinji sighed and made his way to his room. He needed some alone time.

Asuka was right. Maybe he was just a little pervert.

* * *

They had to stop for the second time that night to let Misato puke out all that alcohol that was circulating in her system. Ritsuko was beginning to worry that Misato didn't have anything left to throw up. Maybe they should make a quick trip to the convenience store and buy some hangover medicine. God knows that she'll need it.

"Ritsuko?"

Misato reached up and grabbed Ritsuko's shirt.

She'll have to admonish Misato tomorrow about drinking too much. But for now, Ritsuko simply slipped Misato's arm over her shoulder to help her up.

"How are you doing?" Ritsuko asked as Misato leaned against her for support. The purpled hair woman responded with a groan and murmured.

They walked the rest of the way home with Ritsuko supporting Misato, their arms over each other shoulders. Ritsuko decided that she was getting much too old for this. Still, there was something endearing about the way Misato felt comfortable enough to drink around her. She also liked how Misato had trusted her to care for her in such a vulnerable state.

Trust. Ritsuko wasn't too sure she deserved it, especially from someone like Misato.

Ritsuko's wandering thoughts were interrupted by another groan from Misato.

"Honestly," Ritsuko began, taking on a motherly tone, "drinking so much that you throw up like a kid. Exactly how old are you?"

"Old enough," Misato snapped back, dragging her feet and making it harder for Ritsuko to pull her along. "I'm not a kid."

"Kaji noticed," Ritsuko remarked, off-handedly.

She could feel Misato tense up at the mention of Kaji. Misato muttered something unintelligible, causing the nagging feeling that Ritsuko felt to intensify.

At some point, walking from the bar to now, there was something inside Ritsuko that insisted that Misato should at least know.

Ritsuko had resisted this line of thought, afraid of what Misato's answer would be. But now, that didn't seem as important.

It is Misato's decision.

She began cautiously, "He couldn't believe that you wear high heels now."

"Oh?"

Misato's head hung low next to her, making it impossible for Ritsuko to read Misato's reaction.

After a moment, Misato tentatively asked, "What else did he say?"

There was no turning back for Ritsuko. "He said that he thought you're even more beautiful."

Misato stopped in her tracks, hearing this. Ritsuko felt her weight shift.

"I can walk now. Thank you," Misato murmured, slipping her arms off Ritsuko, who simply nodded.

They walked, side-by-side, in silence.

Ritsuko absently noted that they were near a park. That would explain why the crickets were getting louder.

A car passed by.

Ritsuko hadn't noticed that Misato had stopped suddenly. They were both lost in their own thoughts. After a few steps, Ritsuko realized that Misato wasn't following.

Misato stood still, bathed in the light emitted by the lamppost, looking at the ground in front of her.

Perhaps she was thinking of Kaji, Ritsuko mused, herself unsure what to feel about that.

She walked back to Misato, and stood by, waiting for her.

Misato had wanted Ritsuko to say something, anything. She had wanted Ritsuko to prod her into talking, ask a question or something. Mostly, she wanted Ritsuko to begin so that she wouldn't have to start out by apologizing. No such luck.

"I'm sorry," Misato said, quietly. When Ritsuko didn't respond, she added, "for lying to you. When I told you that I didn't have feelings for Kaji anymore, you knew it was a lie, didn't you?"

"No."

Now Ritsuko was lying.

"It's just that the reason I left him was because Kaji was so much like my late father."

Somewhere in the back of both their minds, they knew that this wasn't a good reason. But Misato pressed on, "When I realized that I wanted a man like my father, I was scared. I was so afraid. Being with Kaji…being a woman…everything scared me."

Her voice was shaking, but Ritsuko made no move to reach over and comfort her. Ritsuko kept her hands still. Her face remained impassive and unreadable.

"I hated my father, but fell in love with someone just like him. I chose to break everything off and join NERV. However, it turned out that my father had worked for NERV too. I tried to bury my feelings by swearing vengeance against the angels."

So. That was why. Ritsuko wasn't surprised by this revelation.

Misato felt disgusted with herself. Here she was, using everyone around her and pretending like she gave a damn. She was the living embodiment of the sad, old, pathetic woman that people would ridicule. Man or woman…she didn't care. She was just looking for love, sex, and comfort. Just that. It made her feel a little disgusted to think that it was a possibility that she didn't care who she got it from. Only that she got it.

So Misato wasn't surprised when Ritsuko didn't say anything. After all, how did she expect Ritsuko? Did she really expect Ritsuko to understand? To run and throw her arms around her? And then everything would be alright again?

"I see…"

* * *

Misato looked up, hating how Ritsuko kept all her thoughts to herself. Unable to stand it, Misato looked away, disappointed in her own weakness.

"That was your decision, Misato," Ritsuko continued, causing Misato to look up again, this time in surprise. "You don't have to be sorry."

Neither of them moved.

After a moment, Misato spoke, her voice laced with guilt, "Yes, I do. I'm just a coward." She paused, holding back tears, "I'm a coward! I just use people when I need to. In the past, I used Kaji and now…, I may have just…just used you!"

Her words cut deep, only because Ritsuko knew that it was true.

Ritsuko shook her head, masking the pain under the appearance of calmness. "That's enough, Misato, stop."

"I'm so pathetic! I can't stand myself!" Misato sobbed. She was no longer fighting back her tears.

Ritsuko looked away. She was afraid that if she looked at Misato any longer the tears that threatened to surfaced would come. "Please," Ritsuko in a voice barely above a whisper, "please stop."

The night was punctuated by the Misato's soft sobs as Ritsuko waited for them to abate. And when they gradually did, Misato continued, more calmly, "I just wanted you to know that my feelings for Kaji…they're not the same. Being around him brought back memories." She paused before adding, "I'm really sorry. I had to get drunk just to tell you this, but…I just wanted to be honest with you."

Ritsuko started to wonder why everyone was suddenly being so honest. Surely, she had never asked for it. And yet here she was. At this moment, the word honesty, to Ritsuko, seemed so hollow and overrated.

Perhaps there were certain things that were better off unsaid.

She decided it was the alcohol. But still, her nerves wouldn't let her brushed off the heartfelt motivation that was behind Misato's actions. They were just too genuine to ignore or deny. Just like Misato. She was always too genuine in Ritsuko's opinion.

It's Misato's decision. that thought repeated in her head.

"So," Ritsuko started, causing Misato to look up at her, "what now?"

Whatever Misato chooses, Ritsuko decided that she had no choice but to accept it. After all, having an unwilling partner was not a part of Ritsuko's plan. If letting her go was for the best then Ritsuko would do it. No matter what the cost.

She watched as Misato clenched her jacket sleeve tighter.

Misato made sure she collected herself before she told Ritsuko, "I still need you." She waited, searching Ritsuko's face, relieved to find an expression of understanding there. Maybe there was still hope for them after all.

Ritsuko nodded and motioned for her to follow. Misato reached out to grab a hold of Ritsuko's hand, and they walked the rest of the way home together like that.

Misato's words resonated in Ritsuko's mind. "I still need you."

After all that, this was really all Ritsuko wanted to hear.

The kiss was nice.

* * *

Shinji had to admit that Asuka's kiss was nice. Even though he wished that Asuka didn't have to ruin it by holding his nose and, thereby, cutting off his only means of breathing.

Right now, however, his ego was taking another bashing from Asuka.

Does she really have to be so melodramatic? he thought as she gargled mouthwash in the bathroom. Surely his kissing skills were that bad. If anything, Shinji reasoned that it was Asuka who still needed to practice.

Just her technique though. Shinji mused, turning warm when he thought about how soft her lips were.

His first kiss. And, it was from Asuka no less.

Before he realized how surreal it was for Asuka to kiss the likes of him, he heard Misato's groans in the hallway.

Ritsuko must be helping her home, Shinji decided as he walked towards the door to open it.

He was right, and from the looks of it, she needed a little help herself.

"Shinji," Ritsuko looked up at him, her eyes full of relief. Misato's back was haunched over as she was leaning against Ritsuko.

Seeing this, Shinji didn't hesitate to run over and take hold of Misato's other arm. She looked, in his opinion, awful. Her hair was in disarray and she was so pale. He also noted that she reeked of alcohol. It was as if she was dipped in a vat of vinegar.

Shinji held his breath as he and Ritsuko dragged Misato through the front door. They passed by Asuka, who stood by the bathroom door, hands on her hips, watching the entire spectacle.

***

**Author's notes:**

_I published this a long time ago under a different name, but I've decided to take it out, brush it up a bit and present it here to you._

This can be a one-shot fic, but it was originally to be part of a series where Ritsuko and Misato initiated an affair in college.

I had really wanted to explore the character of Ritsuko, who can be a pretty misunderstood character. People see her as a scientist at best and a 'heartless bitch' at worst. But, like all the other eva ppl, she's motivated by the desire to be good in the eyes of other (Gendou in particular). What if, in an alternate universe, she was motivated to be good in the eyes of Misato?

Shinji and Asuka were included because I wanted some subtle balance (and because it was there in the series)…to contrast against Misato and Ritsuko's much more adult and darker relationship. After all, Shinji and Asuka are starting out, still optimistic and untainted. Besides, they're cute, no?

Depending on the feedback I get, I might continue. Either way, be forewarned that if I do, this will be a very graphic fic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Cat's Paw**

**Fandom:** Neon Genesis Evangelion  
**Characters:** Misato, Ritsuko  
**Rating:** M for explicit sexuality and language.

**Disclaimer: **Property of Gainax. No money is being made off this.

_Evangelion: Episode 13_

**Chapter 2**

Guarded High Alert. Officially, the alarm raised was attributed to the detectors malfunctioning. No one wanted to believe that NERV was as incompetent as to allow an Angel to actually infiltrate headquarters, and so easily at that. Minimize the damage: the Japanese Government and the Seele committee would be receiving those reports classifying this incident as such within the next 24 hours…

That is, if NERV could survive long enough to make that report. At the moment, however, Misato was not so sure.

"They're micro-machines, the ANGELS with the size of a virus," Ritsuko explained.

And beneath that calm exterior, Misato felt her heart sink. _Angels the size of viruses?!_

She had already witness the corrosive effects of the enemy firsthand. She had stood there and watch as the spread of red illuminated—like tiny mini-spotlights grouped together--in the deep water, eating away at the lining of the interior wall. She stood there and watched as Angel, identified later as the 11th, then spread to contaminate EVA-Unit 00—completely helpless to intervene.

A virus. An infection.

"How can we fight against an enemy that is so resourceful?" Misato wondered.

And after all those previous attacks, it was assumed that Angels would be materialized in god-like form, towering like displaced behemoths above the buildings of Tokyo-3. Why else would the Eva's—mankind's last line of defense against the Angels—be made to match that colossal size? Everything NERV made or did, they made it big. N2 mines, Geo-Front…

They never anticipated an attack so subtle. So perfect in its efficiency.

And Misato worried that if these Angels recognized the nuances of warfare—that attacking wasn't just pummeling your enemy with your fist, but can amount to a complete and total invasion of the mind and body—then what other means of attack could come in the future?

She put those counterproductive thoughts out of her head, reminding herself that, in order to worry about the future, they would first have to ensure that there was a future to begin with.

She raised her hand, after having taken in the briefing given by Ritsuko. Misato concluded, "The only effective way to fight with a subject who constantly evolves and overcome its weaknesses is to take it with us."

And Ritsuko must've already sensed the direction Misato was heading, because she had turned to the other woman, her eyes narrowing in the most imperceptible way: a clear warning to not speak any further; and it might've been missed on most people, but not to Misato, who could feel the power behind that look.

But Misato was anything but easily intimidated—it wasn't in her nature, even if it was Ritsuko doing the intimidation. She clamped down on any lingering feelings of guilt and continued, voice undeterred.

"The only way is to have MAGI commit suicide and take it with the MAGI." The supercomputers—Balthazar, Casper, and Melchior--- were the Angel's obvious objective. Misato only took the rest to its logical conclusion, finishing, "I suggest physical elimination of the MAGI."

Ritsuko responded "Impossible. Aborting MAGI means aborting the Headquarters."

"Then, I formally request it as a strategy section."

The confrontation had escalated; now a vocal showdown was necessary. Ritsuko leveraged herself and said, "I reject. This is a matter of the engineering section."

_Stay out of this, Misato. You have no idea how deep this runs..._

"Why are you acting like a mule?"

And it was so like Misato to fall back and attribute failings to personal faults when judgment didn't agree with her. Ritsuko was used to this by now, and answered her the only way she knew how—honestly, personally. "This situation started because of my mistake."

"Ritsuko…" Here was the guilt again. "You've always been like this. Keep everything to yourself and never depend on others."

And suddenly, they weren't just talking about the Angel anymore—although that was immediate concern. Though it barely grazed the surface, Misato had opened up, by using a few words, the realms of privacy—their lives—that Ritsuko worked so hard to submerged.

What matters are trivial lives in the face of oncoming apocalypse?

Ritsuko addressed the rest of the people there, letting Misato know exactly how impersonal this issue was. "As long as the Angels keep evolving, we still have a chance."

"Promotion of evolution?"

Ritsuko turned to the man at the head of the table of NERV; all shrouds of secrecy cloaked him, and no closer to the surface did he emerge. And he spoke, his voice a low rumbling of confidence—like a demi-god striving to reach heaven.

She nodded, "Yes, sir."

And Gendo mused, overlooking the entirety of the situation with a detachment that few could comprehend. "The end of evolution is self-destruction…" He concurred. Yes, this was the way. "It is death itself."

_See to it that this is done._

***

Misato readily admitted that this was not her area of specialties. After all, she had been the one who suggested an operation that was tantamount to a kamikaze strike. Upon second consideration, Misato decided that perhaps Ritsuko was right. MAGI couldn't be sacrificed; not anymore than they were willing to sacrifice the EVA's.

The plan, in its design, was beautiful in its simplicity. Not simple to execute of course—but Misato wouldn't be taking care of that. It was simple to understand, because what it essentially amounted to was a race between the Angel and Casper, the last computer of the MAGI system that, for the moment, remained out of the Angel's reach. So now the technical division of NERV was prepping Casper for an all or nothing sprint to the finish line to see which would be first: whether the ANGEL would evolved itself to death or Casper would be hacked to activate self-destruction upon itself and NERV HQ.

In other words, the fate of the world rested in the hands of one person---Doctor Ritsuko Akagi.

And now, she was situated in the bowels of the MAGI superstructure, wedged, resting her back against the cool steel of the various pipes and wiring that made up the inside of Casper. The space was narrow, and they—Misato and Ritsuko--had to squeeze in here, slouched in awkward positions as they worked. Ritsuko had her head turned up see the labeling on a round, bowl-like casing: MAGI SYSTEM-3. CASPER.

"Get me that wrench, will you?" Ritsuko said, holding her hand out to Misato, who settled from being the strategic director of NERV battle operations to being Ritsuko's assistant for the day—Misato's role being severely limited by the nature of the enemy they were fighting. Still, she didn't complain. As long as she was still able to help…

And Ritsuko was there with her.

"Hmm…reminds me of when we were in college," she said wistfully; handing Ritsuko the wrench as she recalled the days when she played assistant to Ritsuko's pet projects. The other woman would call the shots and she would listen, follow…happily to oblige. Because…well…

Because it was Ritsuko. And Ritsuko had a way of making her feel happy, especially in the simple things…

Their confrontation over what to do with the crisis had ended, so too was the tension between them resolved. And Misato was strangely relieved. True, there was still the ANGEL to contend with. But for now, there was contentment in this silence—her sitting, watching as Ritsuko worked.

Kkkkrrrrrzzzz…the sound of the buzz-saw cutting through steel. Sparks flying. And Ritsuko managed to cut away at the covering—diamond shape-- exposing the literal "brain" of Casper underneath.

"Board No. 25." Ritsuko again held out her hand, requesting.

Misato turned back to the pile of tools at her disposal, scanning quickly over the various keyboards, until she found one marked with a sticky tape—no. 25. _Here it is._

She gave over the board to Ritsuko, who then extended the wiring attached to it, reaching upwards to start to link the board to the brain—plugging in access through long needle-like endings.

"Mmm…" Misato couldn't pinpoint why exactly she had asked the next question, except that it just seemed right at the moment. She guessed that, upon staring at the complex inner working of the computer, she realized that she didn't know a damn thing about it, except that it worked and that it was, supposedly, on their side. Just another machine to be used in their war.

But Ritsuko--besides working on the MAGI almost 24/7--had a strange sort of sentimental attachment to it. One Misato couldn't explain.

"Ne…" She began. "Will you tell me about MAGI? Just a little?"

Ritsuko recognized that voice. Soft and tempering…

And she wasn't looking, but she could picture Misato sitting with her knees up, arms around them, looking to her; not expectant, but sort of eyes heavily-lidded, regarding Ritsuko dreamily as if in surprising wonder. The way a child would look to someone they'd admire.

And that voice…

That voice had a way of undoing most things.

"It's a long story. But not much fun," Ritsuko consented. "Do you know the personality transfer OS?"

"Yeah. It's the system used to transfer a person's personality and make the 7th generation organic computer to think by itself. It is used to operate EVA, too."

Ritsuko had started to input operational codes from the board into Casper, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Tick, tick, tick, tock, tick. "I heard MAGI was the first one to use it. My mother developed it."

_Mother…?_

Misato perked up, realizing the truth behind Ritsuko's statement. "Was your mother's personality transferred to the MAGI?"

"Yes."

Ritsuko hadn't broken a beat in her typing—the revelation didn't mean much to her. It was a cool and studied fact. She continued, "In other word, these brains are my mother's." _Brain. Soul._

And it suddenly made sense to Misato; the connection that she sensed between MAGI and Ritsuko. Much more than a scientist devoted to her work. No, this was intimate; if possible, even more than that…

The preservation of her mother.

"Is that why you wanted to protect MAGI?" Misato asked, remembering how vehemently Ritsuko had defended MAGI against her proposed self-annihilation tactics—her appearing even more insensitive now, in hind sight.

But Ritsuko insisted, "No. I don't think so. My mother had sacrificed much of her life developing this machine. She didn't hesitate in sacrificing me."

"Ritsuko…"

But there was no pain there, although Misato was seeking to empathize. Ritsuko's words cut across clear in the hum of the Casper's fan and her rapid fire typing of the board no. 25. She explained, "As a scientist I could understand, but as her child…" There was a momentarily pause to consider how she should word this; then decided on the simple phrase, "I have my reservations."

And Misato was shocked—completely taken aback by both Ritsuko's demeanor and her--Misato's--own ignorance. She had only shared a bed with this other woman. "Why didn't you tell me this?" She asked, surprising herself with the hurt she found in her own voice following this question.

"You never asked."

There was no accusation there. No hurt, where Misato would've expected to find hurt—the way she, Misato, was feeling now. Instead, it was the simple truth from Ritsuko's perspective—detached from any emotional judgment regarding the actors therein. And Misato found herself afloat with no anchor…

All that noise.

She had spoken so much. Had she forgotten to listen?

And Ritsuko had been indulgent letting her yap away while she…

Misato reflected, sadden, as she noted the distance between them. Physically, less than a few feet apart, and yet, Ritsuko was sitting so far, far away.

_I had wanted to reach you._

And as Misato contemplated, looking at Ritsuko, eyes downcast; she realized then that she really did want to reach Ritsuko. Actually, reach out then, for just one touch...

No. She wanted more. Much more...

There was a desire to actually _be_ there with her. She could feel that familiar dryness claw at the back of her throat and that flash of eroticism that accompanied moments of yearning like this; imagined pinning Ritsuko on her back, _blouse torn open, _fucking her till she came hard and fast---Ritsuko's thigh between her legs...

_Mmmm..._

And Misato wondered why this was? Why, whenever she's confronted with emotional turbulence, she managed to relegate it back to sexuality? As if fucking was some kind of balm she could lavish as a protective cover over a multitude of wounds--no matter the size and variety, the complexity. Applicable when necessary. It felt dirty and, not to mention, completely inappropriate in this situation: in less than two hours ANGEL would recommence its attack. The world would come crashing down around her and all she'd think about was sex.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Misato pushed aside that thought, and whatever indecent ones appeared before that, and decided to settle for a touch. One simple touch.

Her eyes were drawn to Ritsuko's legs which rested nearest to her. Nearer even still was her foot; and Misato traced a line of sight down the length of those legs, tapering at her left ankle, noting that brown pantyhose the other woman always wore--Misato never bothered wearing with those easy-to-tangle contraption, but she never did tell Ritsuko how much she appreciated them on her...

And then there were the heels.

Black and ending in a pointed stiletto; and, while Misato sported them occasionally, she'd prefer combat boots and sneakers--simpler to get around. Those stilettos worked just fine on Ritsuko though; and Misato found it strange, how whenever she woke in the middle of the night, it wasn't the other women's breasts or the feel of her sex that came to mind, but those stilettos and, more specifically, the ankle that peeked from the rim of the shoe--the last really distinguishable feature that separated the person from the shoe.

And it was that memory that Misato culled to mind whenever she missed or long for the other woman; and it was what she wanted to touch now.

Misato looked back towards the opening of the MAGI computer, from where they had crawled in. Maya was not in sight and Misato could hear the tick, tick, ticking of Maya's keyboard, indicating that she was at a safe enough distance away. Alone and in the clear, Misato moved to initiate the contact, leaning slightly before reaching out...

There was a sudden break in Ritsuko's typing, which had, up until that point, been steady and constant. Now, there was only the hum of the fans.

Ritsuko looked down to where Misato's hand rested on her ankle. "Misato?"

And Misato returned that look with a smile, her eyes beseeching and her voice full of affection. She told Ritsuko then, "You know, Ritsuko, there are some things that people, as close as we are..."

_Lovers_, implied.

Ritsuko's eyes opened in surprise at that bold implication, and she blushed despite herself, suddenly forgetting that she was in the middle of reprogramming the most complicated supercomputer in the world.

Misato continued, "We should volunteer to tell each other. You don't always have to be asked before you do."

And that contact--Misato had squeezed that touch gently when she spoke--remained warm and comforting. Ritsuko found herself smiling back at Misato, asking more to herself. "Is that so?"

She knew Misato was right.

***

The world didn't end that day.

Casper had succeeded in outrunning Iruel, and now--with most NERV employees already gone for the evening--Ritsuko walked with Misato to the elevator that ascended from Central Terminal to ground level--Misato was going home, turning in for the night. It had been a long day. She can't even begin to imagine how exhausted Ritsuko must've been and yet...

"You're not going home?"

"Mmmm..." Ritsuko shook her head. "No, there's still work to be done. I've got to help put MAGI back together and there's a whole host of numbers--new probabilities--I have to sort through after today. I didn't know it was possible to get a system upgrade, but we did it."

Misato frowned; concerned about her friend even if she was less concerned about herself. "Ne, Rit-chan. You're going to overwork yourself."

"I'll be careful," Ritsuko answered, smiling. "I promise."

Misato sighed. They had reached the elevator and Ritsuko had pushed the button for the other woman; she could see Misato hesitate, not wanting to leave her alone. "Well then...I'll stay here with you," Misato declared, after a moment of wrinkling her brow in debate.

"Stay?"

"Yeah, hand you wrenches like I did today."

And Ritsuko couldn't help the light chuckle that emerged from her.

"What?" Misato flustered. "I'm serious. I know I don't have a clue what components go where in the MAGI." Misato considered for a second, before realizing: "Hell, I don't even know how it's turned off, really."

"We don't really turn it off. It's on standby."

"Oh..."

Ding. The elevator had arrived. Reflective mirror like doors sliding opening to allow access; and Misato gets on, because there was nothing left to do.

She turned back to gain one last look at her friend before the doors would slid close to separate them. Ritsuko kept her eyes on Misato, and what reflected from there was a warmth, a feeling of love and gratitude, that Misato wanted to hold onto as long as she could--wanting to even hold out her hands to keep the door from automatically shutting.

But, of course, the doors did eventually close, and before they did, Ritsuko told her. "But thank you, Misato. For the offer."

_To be continued..._

Author's Notes:

After the warm reception the one-shot received, I went back to develop the outline for this fic. It's difficult but definitely doable.

I was surprised to learn that this is a rare pairing. Considering the nature of fandom, I would think that these two characters would've been slashed to pieces by now. Oh, wells...

I'm glad to contribute.

This fic will be episodic---I dunno why, it just seems to work better this way in my mind. There'll be rapid time jumps. In the end, what I hope to end up with is an _impression_ of their lives in this AU setting. I'm not aiming to go from point A to be B so much as trying to take snapshots, and you guys can decide the rest.

Leave me reviews! Seriously. I hate to hound people, but it really helps to know where I'm going so I'm not groping around in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Cat's Paw**

**Fandom:** Neon Genesis Evangelion  
**Characters:** Misato, Ritsuko  
**Rating:** MA for **explicit sexuality** and language. Be forewarned. PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE (you know who you are).

**Disclaimer: **Property of Gainax. I owe nothing. No money is being made off this. BELIEVE.

* * *

_Episode 12: The Price of a Miracle is…_

Chapter 3

She remembered the heat. Sheering. As if fury alone could strip her flesh. She remembered the pain; a dumb humming that would pinch through every now and then in her dazed consciousness ---she was too weak then. Too small.

And the blood ran in dripping rivulets from her open wounds---the gash on her forehead that had red blocking the vision of her right eye. There was no fear. This was, after all, the end; and it arrived surprisingly calm among the high screams of heaven, the howling of the wind, and the explosions catalyzing around her.

She remembered him.

His arms—the warmth coming through despite the heat outside--cradling her body, as he limped, broken, to the last escape pod in the shattered facility. _Too small…_

And she remembered turning to him, seeing that look on his face when he placed her in that vessel; the final one left to ensure her safety. Room enough for only one. And if she closed her eyes long enough in the silence, she could still hear her own unsteady voice reverberating through the emptiness, calling out to him then--

"_Da—dad?"_

And he had flipped the switch, sealing the hatch of the capsule. There was a dull thud of his body as he collapsed atop the metal container; followed by the sound of massive, engulfing explosion that took everything away…

She had woken, some time later, swept from the former continent of Antarctica—its ice cap now melted. And when she managed to pry the hatch away, she stood weakly up in that capsule afloat on open water; she could see the remnants of her father's hallowed expedition and the wings of the giant creature of light—

ADAM

Misato Katsuragi. Sole survivor of the Katsuragi Expedition.

That was 14 years ago.

***

_Present._

Misato stood in her bedroom clad in only her underwear, staring at her reflection---at the mirror that looked back at her, and those eyes, her eyes…

Her father's eyes. Those same eyes that refused to look away.

There was a flash of lightning that momentarily lit the room. A storm was raging outside. The weather report had said that it would last through the next few days, not dying anytime soon. She supposed that's just the way of things—always lingering. Never wanting to completely disappear.

How strange it was to see those eyes on another person…when Kaji had made love to her, when he had looked at her in the throes of ecstasy…how long did it take her to notice?

"Kaji…"

Misato clamped down on those feelings—bordering between disgust and disbelief, all dashed with a hint of longing that she couldn't quite understand. And she looked over at her dresser where her necklace—the white cross—laid, along with the framed picture of the three of them—Ritsuko, Kaji, and herself—from college. Her eyes focused on Ritsuko, who had her arms crossed, looking at the camera in a sort of playful, confident challenge; Misato had to ask, "What do you think, Ritsuko? Am I that weak?"

She glanced back at her reflection, now noting the glaring scar that lay between her breasts—all reminders of the Second Impact, her father's sacrifice…

What ADAM had taken from her…

She couldn't help but think: "Perhaps…"

_I am weak._

With that concession, Misato shrugged off her cotton underwear, pulling it down her thighs and kicking it aside. Then she walked over to her dresser and pulled open the drawer, picking through the selection before settling on a black, lacey number. Intimate undergarments, appropriate for what she had in mind.

***

_Earlier that day…_

The room was dark; lit only by the soft glow of the computer monitor's screensaver. It was smaller and simpler than expected—the room—considering that it belonged to one of NERV's most essential assets: Ritsuko Akagi.

At this moment, she had her ear to the phone, while she sat at her desk, trying to console the distraught woman on the other line.

"Mmm…"

It was a sound of condolences from Ritsuko; and, in truth, she was saddened by what she was hearing, though she keep that sadness from showing too much. After all, what had happen couldn't be helped. Being sad about it didn't change anything...

"Yes, I know," she tells her. "But childbirth is never easy. At least her baby survived." A beat of hesitation as she contemplated how she should end this conversation. "Listen, grandma, I have to go. There's work to be done. Mmm, I understand. Goodbye."

Click. She hanged up the phone. There was a sigh, before she leaned back slightly in her seat, her eyes flicking over to the tiny cat figurines that sat on her desk.

"So…" she thought, "The mother cat has died…"

And she considered what she had just said, a bit perturbed. _At least her baby survived._

One kitten out of a litter—the rest had perished in her womb. And Ritsuko frowned, reflecting that, no, she was wrong. Without her mother, the baby wouldn't have long to live either…

She clicked her mouse, deactivating the screensaver to reveal the wallpaper background of the desktop. It was an old picture from her high school days. The naiveté inherent in her 15 year old self; hair still left undyed—a naturalness to it that she had never quite recovered. And there, standing next to her, was her mother.

_Mou sukoshi, okaasama…_

"Just a little more, mother. A little more time," she communicated to the image of the woman now long deceased. "I still have a token debt I owe to Misato…"

_To all of humanity._

Those ANGELS.

How many have there been? After Matariel, the next would be the tenth. Ritsuko was counting down, patient, awaiting the final ANGEL's descent, then…

The time to act was then. Not a moment earlier. For now, she'll endure this necessary façade -- the larger goal always in mind. And she looked to the third figure in that photograph, standing next to her mother: Gendo Ikari. She allowed herself, in the privacy of this room, sealed off from the outside, to regard it—him—with callousness she rarely let slip.

Strive to attain godhood and I shall strike thee down.

***

It was later that day, when they were in the testing facility of NERV watching the latest data readings from the sychro-tests, that Ritsuko had asked her—Misato—and offhanded and casual question: "By the way Misato, are you doing anything for tonight?"

And Misato nearly spat out the coffee she was drinking; more in surprise than anything else. "You..." She regained her bearings and asked, "You're actually going to take some time off of work?"

"I'm considering it…"

And Misato noticed how Maya, who Ritsuko was currently leaning over to get a better view of the numbers on the screen, had reacted; how her back straightened a bit—that almost imperceptible turn of her body—when Ritsuko had begun that line of questioning. But whatever feelings had amassed there, Maya sat, not saying a word.

Ritsuko stood up, jotting notes on her clipboard and said, without turning to look at Misato. "I was thinking of dinner."

"Dinner? Uh…"

This was new, especially considering how hectic their schedule was expected to be with Commander Ikari's absence—he was en route to examine what was left of the impact site. So, for Ritsuko to go out of her way to suggest spending time together…well, this was wholly unexpected.

She must have something she wants to talk about…

Misato recovered enough to give Ritsuko a smile and an answer. "Dinner sounds nice."

***

_Present._

Asuka was stacking beer cans up in a pyramid shape on the dinner table while Shinji gawked, disbelieving what he was witnessing or what she had suggested.

Boredom was king.

And he started with his trademark line, "Umm, I don't think we should…Asuka."

She finished off by placing the last can in its place above the towering glory that was YEBISU. Then, she took a brief moment to look over her work—proud. Now, she turned her gaze to her intended partner in crime—annoyed. "Idiot Shinji, do you want to be the last guy in your class to never have tried alcohol?"

He flinched at the way she had said, "Idiot." He would've figured he'd be used to it by now. But…

"Well…I…" He hesitated, not sure how to rebut her; and she just shook her head.

This guy really was hopeless.

"If it's not for me, you'd be thirty before you'd even attempt to sip at it," she said, adding--quite dishearteningly, "God knows, you'll be a virgin for that long. Mightest well do something to lessen the load."

"Hey! That's not fair."

Again, another shake of her head. Who was he trying to convince?

He stuttered, before he flung out another futile attempt to retrieve his dignity. "I don't think I'll be thirty before…" He paused, groping for the right way to say this…because…because…Shinji was nothing if not obscenely shy. "...you know…I do _it_." Blush.

And Asuka felt like smacking her head. "Oh god…" she thought, morose. No one can accuse her of at least trying to help Shinji. "Wonderboy, you are hopeless."

"Besides," Shinji added, "what about Misato?"

"What about her?"

"Well…with me being underage and drinking…"

"She's not going to care." Asuka said, shoulders dejected from having to do so much to convince Shinji to try something would broaden his horizons just a little. "She's so out of it lately, she's not going to even notice if you drank 200 hundred of these things and promptly pass out from poisoning."

"But…"

"Listen Shinji, I just walked by her bedroom a while ago and she was changing with the door left open enough for any old pervert to look in." Asuka shivered, recalling that image of her naked guardian—oh, her poor eyes.

More blushing from Shinji. "Oh? I didn't realize..."

Truth was, he did realize. Misato had been so odd that even he noticed. Ever since they had learned about her promotion, Misato seemed to drift in and out of the here and now. It was as if she herself hadn't quite coped with her new position. And here, Shinji thought that was a good thing—the promotion, that is…

It was then that Misato's door slid open a little wider and she stepped out.

And Shinji found his breath awkwardly lodged in his throat at the sight of her---shoulder length hair combed neatly, let down. Diamond earrings a'sparkled, shimmering from where they peeked out of her hair. And that black dress…

Oh, that dress…simple in its design, had hugged all the right curves of her body. Short enough to show off her long sensual legs; yet sophisticated enough for dinner at a fancy restaurant, where he'd assume she'll be tonight.

In short, she was a vision.

It wasn't the first time Shinji had known beauty, but it was the first time he was so aware of how remarkably…_feminine_ it was.

Even Asuka gawked, finding herself say, "Wow…" in a barely perceptible volume.

Misato looked over at them and said simply, "I'm going out tonight. Don't wait for me."

"Uh huh," Shinji nodded dumbly.

While Asuka repeated, "Going out…?" As if it was something brand new.

Misato had stepped to the doorway, slipped on heels and stepped out of the front door. She had glanced at them—at the beer can-made pyramid; but she took in nothing. Her mind was so distracted that she had left almost without saying a word.

And, when she had walked by Asuka, the girl had picked up on the scent that wafted through the air. "Lavender…perfume…" spoken in a dazed, stricken acknowledgment.

And suddenly it became clear. Misato was going to see Kaji tonight; and she wouldn't be back early because…

Asuka lowered her head, feeling as if bile had backtracked from her insides and up her throat. _This_ was the sharpest instance of defeat she'd ever known.

***

_About nine years ago._

The first thing Ritsuko noticed when the other woman sat down in front of her was her hair---the color of it. Purple like amethyst crystal. Purple like the color of stained orchids in bloom. An unusual color…

And then, the other woman spoke. "Misato Katsuragi. Pleased to meet you."

Ritsuko had to blink away the confusion she must've had on her face. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm Misato. You have Professor Takehashi at 3, right? You sit in the front row. Quiet except when he asks a question. I noticed."

"Oh…?"

Ritsuko had never considered herself _that_ introverted; she just didn't pay attention to the details--the faces that didn't matter. So when Misato had sat herself there in the lunch cafeteria with her, it was literally the first time Ritsuko had recognized this woman.

"Yeah," Misato confirmed. "You seem like a nice girl." And Misato laughed at the look on Ritsuko's face. "I'm just introducing myself. Don't worry. I'm not going to ask to borrow or plagiarized essays or anything like that…"

And then she started talking. A lot. Long and fast sentences. Words registering barely within the scale of coherency. Talking to fill space.

Somewhere along the way, she had asked for a name and the other woman had answered after being momentarily surprised at Misato's sudden pause. "Uh....Ritsuko Akagi."

"Hmm…Ritsuko Akagi. That's a nice name."

That was when Ritsuko had blushed; and, looking back later, she realized how strange this was; there was nothing to blush about logically. Ritsuko hadn't done anything to embarrass herself in front of this woman she had barely met. So why the blushing?

And, in that normally placid sense of self, Ritsuko noted how her pulse had quickened when she couldn't look away---eyes focusing on an imaginary line down Misato's pale, naked throat that ended in her exposed sternum, and how the shirt was open enough where her clavicle showed along the edges of the collar.

She supposed then, that if she had been honest with herself, she'd admit that there was some level of attraction there. Misato was very charismatic.

And Ritsuko had nodded along, trying to keep pace with the conversation when Misato said, "Actually, to be honest with you, I did come here for a reason." Misato ducked her head, trying to conceal how guilty she felt. "I saw your posting looking for a new roommate and I just wanted to see what type of person you were. Now that I've spoken with you, I think we could be good friends. What do you say? Can I apply?"

Ritsuko stared back, dumbfounded that this entire meeting was an impromptu housing interview…and she wasn't even the one doing the interviewing!

And after she had recovered, she said something to likes of, "I…I guess…"

It wasn't like Ritsuko to agree to that. Not like her at all to accept someone into her life on a whim. In retrospect, everything that occurred since then made the meeting that day all the more fateful.

"Great!" The strange purple-haired woman had clapped her hands together, eyes crescent-moon shaped. Perhaps, Ritsuko imagined, that it was that sense of _goodness_ she garnered from Misato that made her say, yes, stay with me. Misato had said afterwards, "And, to show you how much I appreciate you putting a roof over my head, I'm going to treat you to dinner."

***

Nine years later, it seemed that Misato was still treating her out to dinner, or vice versa. Either way, they went to dinner. But so much time had passed, and so much had changed...

_Present._

Ritsuko looked out the window of the restaurant they were sitting this evening. Still pouring outside; everything black except for the streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement.

They had finished ordering dinner with Misato saying, "I'll have the same," and now they were just waiting for the dishes to arrive; making small talk in-between; each avoiding what was really on their mind.

Ritsuko noted how the other woman looked--decidedly nice and somewhat nervous; Misato was stumbling over her words a bit, and she had ordered more than one bottle of wine. _Had it really been that long?_

Somehow the conversation had turned to the topic of Ritsuko's assistant.

"I think," Misato said, "that Maya _likes_ you."

"Hmm?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that she does."

"Yes, I know."

"What? You...you know?" Misato stared at Ritsuko, wide-eyed at how nonchalant Ritsuko was treating this matter.

And Ritsuko just took another sip of the water, before replying. "I have eyes, don't I? How can I not know?"

"Um..." Misato settled back into her seat, struck stunned. She had always felt the nagging suspicion that Maya--the girl was so sweet--harbored feelings for Ritsuko; but to have it confirmed by Ritsuko's herself...well...

"So...so, what are you going to do about it?" Misato finally managed to ask--thoughts coming together now.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?! What do you mean nothing?"

Ritsuko had to look up, noting the unusual distress in Misato's voice. "There's nothing to do. Maya's just going through what I went through with Professor Galen." Ritsuko said, referencing her torrid affair with the middle-aged man in college. A tragic episode Misato was well aware of. "Extreme admiration confused with an overactive imagination and hormones all amounting to a case of undue infatuation. There's nothing to do but let it run its course and then die."

"But..."

"But what? Why are you so worried?" Ritsuko asked, amused by how concerned the other woman was over Maya's predicament--someone who could potentially be a rival for Ritsuko's affection. "It's not like it's reciprocal."

"I'm not worried. I just...feel for her. That's all."

Ritsuko frowned upon hearing that. From the way Misato had slumped, she figured that the she wasn't lying; and it bothered her. "That's your problem, Misato," she said, point blank. "Not everyone seeks to be sympathetic. Sometimes it comes across too much like pity."

"It wouldn't hurt if you tried once in a while," she snapped back.

And Ritsuko had just puffed out air through her nose--noticeably annoyed.

Misato looked away, trying to avoid that narrow-eyed thing that she knew Ritsuko was doing; and scanned the premises of the restaurant, as if thoroughly engrossed with the wait-time they were having. "Where is that damn waiter? Why isn't the food out yet?"

But the other woman wouldn't let it go that easily. "And anyways, Misato, why bring up Maya when we all know what's really on your mind."

"What's on my mind is food." Avoidance again. If it works...

And Ritsuko knows exactly what's been bothering Misato; she didn't even have to say the word, 'promotion' and Ritsuko knows; how it had kept Misato up at night; how wrong she felt it was to have her pursuit of a personal vendetta justify something as mundane as a 'career advancement.' She didn't even have to say a word.

Still, it was not like Misato to keep such silences. Secrets and ambiguity were more Ritsuko's forte than anything else; and Ritsuko decided then to break with convention. Tonight, she'll be the one speaking. "Aoki died today."

Misato pivoted her head, that compassionate look coming over her again--this time directed at Ritsuko. "Aoki? Your pregnant cat?"

One among Ritsuko many cats. Misato didn't understand her partner's affinity for those things. Still...

She had known of Aoki's pregnancy and of how Ritsuko had sent her to stay with her grandmama temporarily until after birth, but now...

"Yes. One of her babies survived, but I'm not too hopeful that it'll come through."

"Ritsuko..."

_So that was why..._

And Misato suddenly understood her need to be here tonight; if only to find momentarily solace away from grief. And Misato had been with her long enough to be able to read between the lines, even if Ritsuko's face remained impassive---inscrutable.

"Here you are-- I have chicken..." The waiter arrived, placing down plates and naming dishes off his tongue. But Ritsuko wasn't paying attention. Underneath the table, hidden by the tablecloth, Misato had slipped off one of her heels, and was running that foot over up and down Ritsuko's leg--caressing; as she leaned her elbow on the table, chin resting on her hand, watching for Ritsuko's reaction.

It had really been too long...

***

And it was still raining when the car had pulled into the corner of a deserted parking lot.

Still pouring, when she had switched the transmission to 'park,' then climbed over the driver's seat and shimmying through the little crevice that separated the front from the back of the car; pulling the other woman along with her. They settled in the back, breathing heavily, desperate, as every exhale condensed and fogged the window further.

And how quickly that little black dress Misato was wearing got discarded as she straddled herself on Ritsuko, tugging the dress over her head and throwing aside; forgotten. Her hand reached around and found anchor on the middle of Ritsuko's back...palm spread along the bumps of Ritsuko's vertebrae as Misato used that leverage to move against her lover. Each inhale and exhale now accompanied by sounds of unbidden pleasure---whimpers and short hitches pulled from Misato's throat.

How long did that go on? That steady rocking motion.

The rain hadn't abated. It would be years before it will; but for now, they found comfort lodged in the backseat of Misato's car (she couldn't wait long enough to drive anywhere else). Fumbling like teenagers. And sometimes their coupling was like this; hungry and furious, verging on the edges of sanity...

The water running down in translucent lines on the windows, and the soft pitter-pattering of many droplets hitting the car--none of it tampered what was there. And Ritsuko could see the shadows play on Misato's skin; bluish grey light from the lamppost that filtered through the rain drenched window had lit her in the most ephemeral way.

It was heartbreaking. How beautiful she was...

The way her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, mirroring the beating of what was underneath; the goosebumps that aligned most noticeably on her arms--reacting, Ritsuko guessed, to the chill that seeped in from the outside. But it's too hot...

And the heat between them had counteracted everything.

Her bra being long ago castoff, allowed Ritsuko to explore, uninhibited, what Misato offered up freely; and she did explore, mouth sucking gently on Misato's throat and neck while her hands ran along the outlines of Misato's breast, thumbs finally brushing against the hardened peaks of her nipples. And Misato gave a soft moan, before squirming a bit and telling her--in a little whimper, "Stop--stop teasing me."

Words communicated between in the most intimate moments.

Ritsuko grazed her teeth against the flesh of Misato's neck, drawing shivers from her. "I'm not teasing you."

And Misato was so wet...

Already arouse from the way she had grounded her pelvis rhythmically against Ritsuko.

Another short whine from Misato, and Ritsuko had mercy enough to give. She pushed her, so that Misato's back was leaned against the front passenger's seat--it was awkward, so little space to work with in this cramp car; but Misato wasn't complaining.

Ritsuko ran her hand along the top of Misato's underwear--along the lacey floral patterns that was there. _So, _she thought, _this was expected..._

And she traced the silk of those panties down the contour to the junction of Misato's legs, feeling the bumps of the hairs underneath. All the little details, before reaching where Misato's heated sex was--the outline of it. And, oh, she was wet...

And it couldn't have been anticipated enough; she felt Misato tense, then swoon a bit. "Ohh...right there," Misato indicated, her own hand reaching down to hold Ritsuko's to her, pressing the urgency; she wanted now.

Ritsuko moved her head up from where she had been resting on the crook of Misato's neck, to see her face, where she leaned down to kiss Misato full on the lips. Long and deep, passionate--her tongue sliding and intertwining with Misato's. Lewd and wanting, as she moved aside the fabric covering Misato's sex and eased her fingers in...

Misato broke the kiss on _that_ contact, eyes fluttering open and close as she rolled her hips to help deepen the penetration; her mouth open in heaving pants.

"More..." she urged.

"More..." she wanted, reaching for something so intangible as the coils in her wound impossibly tighter."Fuck, that feels sooo gooood..." as Ritsuko slipped those fingers in and out of her...

And Misato hadn't noticed how her own hand had reached up unconsciously to caress Ritsuko's face; her left cheek; Ritsuko turned her face sideways, kissing that palm now, and then sliding upwards to kiss her fingertips before letting one dip into her mouth. Misato watched with her jaw agape at the eroticism of it---how Ritsuko had lavish her finger, circling the wetness around the tip before sucking gently.

And that was it. That along with the steady fucking of Ritsuko 's fingers within her did it. _Not that it took long..._

She remembered watching Ritsuko watched her--pupils dilated with desire, heard that hitch in her own voice as her body recoiled; a mass of involuntary motion; that pulsating, that pulsating...that squeezed and tighten around Ritsuko when she orgasm; and how soundless she was (no cries or screaming), as if she had given everything over and there was nothing left except this feeling..._this_ feeling. That euphoria had lifted and drifted downwards; she felt it drain out of her---the tension, her energy, all the bundled up passion...

And Misato fell forward, leaning her weight against Ritsuko, helpless, as more aftershocks ran through her; little tremors and involuntary shudders--she gave over to soft cries, eyes shut as she felt herself coming in smaller waves.

Ritsuko had removed her hand and was now gently cradling the back of Misato's head, murmuring words of comfort to guide her through this overwhelming high; and it took a while, but Misato slowly came to--back to Earth--settled with the side of her face against Ritsuko's shoulder. She stirred against her, and Ritsuko finally asked, "Are you okay?"

"Mmm..uh huh." She lets out a sigh. More than okay; just luxuriating in the pleasant aftermath...

Misato lifted her head up to look at Ritsuko, loving feelings emanating within her. She kissed the tip of Ritsuko nose and the other woman had laughed. "Now for you," she said with another sigh--wanting to give as good as she got.

She pushed Ritsuko down on her back--on the seat--and vaguely noted, leaning over her, how interesting it was that throughout this whole ordeal Ritsuko had remained pretty much dressed; except for a few buttons undone in her top, which allowed Misato a generous view of her cream-colored bra. _Well_, she thought, _that's all going to change..._

And Misato licked her lips as she reached down to grab a hold of Ritsuko's underwear, telling her, playful. "Unlike you, I get to the point." And with that, Misato pulled in one swift and smooth motion, that underwear from Ritsuko's legs, yanking it off Ritsuko's ankle and tossing it--to settled along with all the other discarded clothing items, in between the seats.

To be continued...

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Now I'm delving into complexity. I don't want to give away everything just yet, but I hope you got a sense that Ritsuko's complacency with Gendo is not as simple as she lets on.**

**If anything, I wanted to characterize Misato and Ritsuko's relationship with a sort of hesitant tenderness that I see them capable of having that would stay in touch with their characters; I don't want too much OCC. They definitely love (capital L, love) each other. But of course, there are the secrets...**

**To clarify, Misato loves Kaji. I don't think she could ever stop loving him, even in an alternate scenario like this one. There's that Electra complex to contend with and also their long history. However, in this universe, she loves Ritsuko **_**more**_**, and more makes all the difference. I do believe it is possible to be love simultaneously. No one sets out to be unfaithful--I hope--but that's the nature of things.**

**I wanted to say one more thing...oh yeah, I realized that what I'm writing is really best described as an appendix to the canonical Evangelion series and that it would be read best if you considered it that way. **

**In regards to the sex scene (this one's for you traitors of all traitors--you pervert you), I felt it was a necessary in order to portray the fullness of the relationship shared between the two characters. Emotionally needed. Otherwise, I wouldn't have bothered including it. I tried to write it 'tastefully' enough. What I was striving for was eroticism. And hopefully it wasn't too poetic and obscure or too 'porn-y' and blunt. The way I test a sex scene out to see if it worked is if I write something and don't laugh at it unintentionally. For those of you offput by what was written here, I apologize and need to point that you should stop reading this fic NOW, as there would only be more scenes like this in the future. For those of you in approval, I suggest a mini-wave in celebration of me. ;D**

**Allrighty, I've said my peace, now it's time you said yours. Leave a review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Cat's Paw**  
**Fandom:** Neon Genesis Evangelion  
**Characters:** Misato, Ritsuko  
**Rating:** M for explicit sexuality and language.

**Disclaimer: **Property of Gainax. I owe nothing. No money is being made off this. BELIEVE.

* * *

_Episode 15: Those women longed for the kisses of others', and thus invite their kisses..._

**Chapter 4**

Glassy and unfolding, white phantom shapes formed by the fluorescent lighting reflecting off the water. A slight haze of hot steam filling the room.

Drip, drip.

Each a small splash where droplets land from the facet and hitting the surface of the water in tiny, repeated explosions. Asuka rested her head back on the edge of the tub, letting her body soak; simply floating there for a while—suspended. Her eyes closed and she listened to the humming. The drip, drip, dripping...

And it always came back to this: that black dress. Days, nights, months had passed, and yet it always came back to that dress Misato had worn that night on her way to meet Kaji. She couldn't forget and was still in awe of what she had seen.

_Woman_.

What did it mean to be a woman?

Of course, that anatomical body part between her legs defined her as female, Asuka noted, glancing downwards in slight disgust. She had been soaking so long her fingers were like prunes.

To be bathing---have her sex bathe in—the same bathwater as Misato and Shinji, absorbing the leftovers; and how she despised it.

That _thing _between her legs made her female…but woman?

How much she was trying to prove? The plugsuits and the ANGELS she had defeated trying to defined her worth; and it wasn't the college degrees or the praises.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

_Unpleasant memories have a way of finding me in the bath…_

And she was strong. Asuka had to be. There were too many variables to calculate—too much to protect from; it was easier to build a wall than defend open countries where her psyche was concerned. But when she shut _this_ door—the bathroom door—that was when it came. All the unpleasant thoughts. All the doubting.

Misato had said, "It's not for a kids," when she had asked to borrow her lavender perfume. Sure, she was going to use it on a casual date; nothing too serious. But…she wanted that perfume...even if it was just to try out. Just to see if it worked.

_That's the difference_, she thought, _between me and her_; recalling the height and fullness that was there around Misato's hips and breasts; the ratio of her legs and arms—_completeness_ that Asuka had yet to develop. No. She was still a child. Awkward and half-formed. And there was a part of Asuka—deep, deep inside---that feared she would never get there.

Asuka frowned, wanting to splash the dirty water out of the tub or at least pull the plug and watch that it all drained down until she was sitting in nothing. They would chastise her.

_Minna daikirai._

Instead, she had her fingers skim over the folds underneath the reddish pubic hair--the folds that served as the lynchpin of her being. There was a separation, it seemed, between herself and this body she inhabited; and her eyes glazed over in judgment, wondering then what this was for?

The fullness…

If not for the enjoyment and attraction of men...like Kaji.

_That was the measure of her worth. _And she wanted to go see him, talk to him. Flush away the faithlessness she had in herself.

***

_Nine Years ago…_

_University of Second Tokyo_

He watched from his bed, his eyes following after her adoringly---as she had shuffled out of that bed that they shared and was now in the process of shimmying on jeans she worn when she had arrived four days ago. There were no specifics. It was as if she'd always been there--this person occupying this space in his room, in his life. They had met only a few months ago; her initiative. And since then...

Misato Katsuragi.

She sniffed at herself, remarking, "Ugh, nasty. This is the last time I'm letting you talk me into having non-stop marathon sex."

There was always some kind of reality to ground the dream.

He chuckled and rolled onto his back; the lull of post-coitus coming over him. "Come on, you love it. It's not like I had to do much convincing."

He glanced around at the empty soda bottles and pizza boxes littering his single-man dorm room: sustenance that maintained them during those trying days. And he was more than willing to give over to the sweet death that came with their lovemaking if it meant more in the future.

But Misato just wrung her hair, as if trying to get that awful collision--the stench of sticky junk food and mustiness of bodily secretions--off of her. "Next time, we stop for a bath."

"A shower. But only if I can shower with you."

"Shut up. I'm serious."

The look on her face said otherwise; and she was close enough for him to grab and pull her back into bed—even if she was fully clothed; that only had the appeal of more to take off.

She yelped when he had dragged her down, and protested in mock consternation afterwards as she lay awkwardly on top of him, "You're not taking me seriously." All that before giving into fits of laughter he provoked.

And then the phone rang; Misato pushed Kaji away, dodging his kisses to grab the cell that sat on the nightstand. She answered, laughing, "Hello? Oh hey." Kaji shifted his head in interest; there was immediate change in Misato's attitude--a casual comfort that came with recognition. "No, I'm not. I—I'm studying."

Kaji couldn't help another chuckle; and Misato flinched, her free hand shooting out to cover his mouth. "That's my study partner," she said quickly, addressing the concern of the male voice that was overheard. And Kaji, in jest, responded by licking the palm of her hand. She pulled away, making a face as she wiped his saliva on her jeans. "Ughh..."

Recovering, Misato continued her conversation on the phone while Kaji laid with his head on her lap, content. She announced, "All right, we'll be there. I'll see you tonight then." Then she flipped her phone, effectively hanging up.

Kaji raised his eyebrow, "_We_?"

"Yes, we."

"And where exactly are _we_ going tonight?"

"Oh you know, to a bar," Misato tossed out nonchalantly, explaining, "That was my roommate. I guess all the suspense of me being gone this whole time got to her and she basically blackmailed me into presenting you..." Misato had a wistful look on her face when she considered this other person.

_Roommate_? Misato hadn't said much about this person. In fact, he had figured she was looking for a roommate in him, having spent most of her time here since they've met. "Interesting..." he remarked.

"So you're going," she said.

Not a question. Not a command. Just a statement--point of fact.

"And I don't have a say in this?"

"None."

Kaji sighed in mock resignation and simply said, "Whatever my lady wishes. But, we're going to have to take a shower first."

And Misato punched him lightly on the arm, shaking her head. He really was a rascal. "Idiot," and _that_ was a term of endearment.

***

_NERV HQ_

_Present_

Some days were harder than others...

Some days, all Kaji had to do was wake and he couldn't concentrate; not on anything else but those ghosts; hungry images that beckoned back to bygone days.

A woman had talked to him while he was on the way here; not that they don't usually do. He had a thing about himself—always did. Even growing up, they loved him; showered him with hugs and kisses, offering more and he'd be glad to take.

He was at his desk, the one assigned to him by the powers-that-be. Not that this was where he usually worked. The desk was for appearance's sake.

Many names, many alias, faces and jobs, but Kaji Ryogi only had one heart that stayed loyal to two things: truth and the woman who had left him during the infancy of his adulthood. And it didn't matter how many others talked to him or flirted with him—like the one who had asked him, "Can I see you later tonight?"—_she_ always fell back into his thoughts. _I'll go out tonight, probably sleep with this woman and never call her again…_

"KAAAJJJIIII!"

It was a reflexive wince and Kaji immediately clicked the screensaver on, hiding the documents labeled 'classified' and turned to face Asuka, who had walked in unannounced; and, as soon as he did, she threw her arms around him, draping over him affectionately. "Kaji! Do you miss me?"

"Asuka..." He recovered, "Actually, I'm more surprised than anything."

He held two hands on her shoulders and tried to push her gently away. The crush she had on him was embarrassingly obvious; she made every opportunity to announce it. And if he was 14, maybe there would've been a chance; but at almost 30 and getting older every year, the difference between them made her infatuation seem ridiculous and him insensible.

In other words, there was no interest on his end, whatsoever.

"Sorry, Asuka, but I'm very busy at the moment. Can you come back some other time?"

And normally, she would've whined and pouted, but she would remain upbeat about having seen him. This time, however, that jovialness vanished. _Today_ was different.

"Right...you're busy." There was a pause, and she seemed to consider the real implication behind his words: he didn't want to see her. And that other woman's image flashed in front of her eyes, taunting her. She looked up at him, eyes accusing. "But I bet you would make time for Misato--in a heartbeat. Am I right?"

Kaji's expression darkened. She had bought up something extremely personal; and, in this context, he judged that it was completely uncalled for. "You know that's not why. And don't bring her into this."

But she just repeated, "Am I right?"

"No."

"You're a terrible liar, Kaji."

She might've been ridiculous, but if no one could've doubted her sincerity; that those feelings were genuine despite the shakiness of the foundation on which they rested.

"Why...what..." It was hard to say aloud what she had always feared was true; but she needed to know. "What is it about her? What does she have that I don't have?"

"Asuka..."

_Why can't you look at me the way you look at her?_

And she lashed her heart out; stringing it on such an agonizingly honest display that it touched on the tragic. "I can be a woman! See!" At this she tore away the ribbon that held the top of her student uniform, undoing the button and exposed herself--the bra, what precious little it held up. She wanted to know---needed to know--that she could equal and exceed the other woman in his eyes. "Don't look away, Kaji," she begged. "Look at me!" pleaded.

"Asuka, please...you don't know how it is." How all of it was in the past...

He needed to clarify; because there was some guilt on his part which accounted for her distress. "Misato and I, we're not together."

"You can say anything to me, Kaji. But just stop lying."

And there was a part of him---what he would approximate to be his soul--that wished he was lying; imagined an alternate universe where Misato had met him first--before that _other_ person--and had moved in with him. There was that possibility, among many other lifetimes he could've lived.

But _this_...this was not one of them. He had come to terms with it. "Asuka, pay attention when I say this," he enunciated the next part so that there would be no mistake, "Misato doesn't love me--not like that anymore and that's not the reason I asked you to come back later. I really do have work to do."

Asuka shook her head, refusing to believe. It didn't make sense to her. "How can she not be in love with you? It's not like she's into women or..."

It was something Asuka threw out there; hypothetical and entirely thoughtless. But it had been so abrupt that it caught Kaji off-guard; and his eyes had just flicked a little. Just a little; enough, however, for Asuka to ascertain…

_Was it true?_

She stared at him, disbelieving; he stared at her, disbelieving. Was he that easy to read? Not where Asuka was concerned. She who had adored him so, and paid attention to every loving nuance…

He couldn't escape her.

"Oh my god..." her voice came out soft, "How? Who...?"

She was going to ask who it was...that woman...but then she realized that it didn't matter.

And Kaji found himself able to speak again, realizing that he needed to mitigate the damage he had unwittingly inflicted---the betrayal of confidence. "I'm not confirming or denying anything, Asuka. I have a feeling you won't believe me either way. But know that all you have is unsubstantiated speculation." He continued, emphasizing, "It wouldn't be wise for you to spread such rumors. You'd complicate professional matters involving personal--"

"I know that!" she snapped back. "What do you think I am? Immature? I don't waste my time with petty gossip."

And for once, Kaji was glad Asuka was in possession of that boastful ego of hers. Asuka, meanwhile, was backing towards the door. There was too much confusion here and she couldn't deal with it in front of him. "You know what, Kaji?" She began, her voice shaky, "I think...I'm just going to go home. I've had enough craziness for one day." She lowered her head and walked briskly out the door.

***

"Paper, scissors...ROCK!"

The boy struck out rock, but Misato had simply splayed her right hand in a wiggling upward manner. "KSSSHH!"

Shinji reacted. "Wha--Misato, what is that?"

"Atomic weapon, what else? Hehe. Pay up, Shinji-kun," she gave him a huge grin; white teeth all crunched together to form a bright smile and she held out her hand. "Come on."

He sighed as his shoulders slumped.

This woman was supposedly almost 30, and yet...

"You know," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a 100 yen coin. "You're only going to waste this on beer money."

It was post-dinner, and the two at the table were sharing a friendly--and 'fair'-- game of paper, scissor, rock--- one of Misato's specialty; and Shinji, after all this time living with her, was finally starting to figure out why this was...

"I say we ban nuclear items from the arsenal of weapons we can choose from," the boy said, finally placing a part of his allowance into her hand. "The game is called paper, scissors, and rock for a reason."

"I'm not going to waste this on beer money," Misato said, before considering; then deciding, "Okay, fine. Maybe...all right. It's not like my job pays me enough. So I will take your money, Shinji, and thank you now."

"You're welcome..." he said, suppressing an eye roll; he picked up his tea to sip at it, opening one eyes to look at his guardian, who happily counted her loot. Still…

He was happy. Happy with routine: cooking dinner, having them eat, and then spending time doing diminutive recreational activities. Shinji didn't know how many more of these uneventful evenings were assured for the future; but for now, _this_, he felt, was much more than he deserved.

Moreover, he knew---glancing at Misato, sitting there---he knew she was trying hard to make it look like she was _into_ babysitting them. It couldn't have been easy for her...

To put up a front for their benefit.

There had been a lot of pressure at work lately. Misato came home shaking some nights, before she'd realized he had seen her. Other nights, she didn't come home at all.

So, he figured, he would play along while she was here; feign ignorance so long as they could maintain some semblance of happiness and normalcy.

He turned to look at the third (human) member of their household, Asuka, who at this moment was staring in their direction, but she mightiest well be staring at empty space. She had that distant, glazed over look in her eyes; and Shinji noted how unusually quiet she had been…

No, 'idiot'.

No, 'what are you stupid?!'

This peace was disconcerting.

"Asuka?" He waved his hands in front of her face, snapping her out of whatever infinite loop she had gotten herself stuck in. And she blinked in surprise, seeing Shinji's look of concern when he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" she realized, after a beat, that Shinji and Misato were staring at her. Misato had the beer can to her lips, and she glanced sideways at Asuka; not out of concerned, but more out of curiosity.

It didn't help matters any when Asuka suddenly blushed bright red, flustered when she found herself the focus of Misato's attention; as if the woman could—at any moment—figure out that Asuka had been thinking about her…

"I'm going to bed," she announced, getting up from the dinner table to flee from any possible interrogations; it was humiliating enough to have been caught unaware to begin with.

"Bed?" Shinji looked at the clock. "But it's only 8."

Asuka, however, was already at her bedroom and simply closed her sliding door in response. All this strangeness had only worried Shinji further.

Misato, on the other hand, watched after the girl. There was something off about her, sure. But she couldn't help the feeling that it had something to do with her. It bothered her, but not in the same way it bothered Shinji. And Misato thought about their already tenuous relationship.

Shinji, Misato concluded, was easy. Shinji genuinely liked her. Asuka was different; it was never simply love or hate. Although most of the time, it felt like the latter.

"Maybe it's forced indifference," Misato figured, finally placing her beer can down.

***

Asuka laid on her bed—on her stomach, with her legs splayed out. She hugged the pillow to her chest, contemplating…

How could she have not noticed before?

All those nights when she thought Misato had been out with Kaji…

Misato, in that black dress flashed in front of her mind again. Asuka found herself blushing at that thought and of her assumption. Her guardian suddenly looked different. The entire idea of femininity---that fullness and what it was for…she couldn't have been more wrong.

Asuka wasn't disgusted; although the revelation had initially been unsettling. She realized soon afterwards that she didn't care enough to judge only because now…

Misato's life had nothing to do with hers on _that_ level anymore.

And Kaji…

He had known all along, and yet…

He did nothing.

And something changed in Asuka at that moment; changed Kaji in her eyes. She had seen the way he looked at Misato—how he interacted with her; Asuka could tell that he was still very much in love. But the presumption that Misato loved him back always hung in the air like a sickness to Asuka. Now that it was gone, it was as if Asuka had lost some kind of compass that she never even realized that she had.

_So_, she thought, _Kaji's feelings are unrequited too…_

Asuka had stepped back enough to truly assess the man she claimed she loved, and realized that then that she knew nothing. Adulthood had become too complicated; an entangled mess that Asuka no longer felt she wanted to be a part of.

_Kimochi warui..._

"I feel sick."

***

_Nine Years ago…_

The local dig at the university was a little more than a classroom wide; yet, on a Friday night, it was packed to the brim with students—long exhausted from their week—coming here to let off steam. It was a rowdy almost lawless place that, were it not for the bouncer, could've easily had fights break out every half an hour. So it was strange, Kaji thought, to see such a center of calmness surround the woman Misato introduced him to that night.

She was leaning against the wall just outside the main line to get in, eyes closed, entirely shut out from the noise level of the groups congregating around her. Cigarette in hand, she was taking small puffs, shoulders rising and lowering, relaxed with every exhale.

Misato had pointed, "There she is! Ritsuko! Oy, Rits!"

And she had opened her eyes to look up at them. Kaji noted immediately the yellow of her hair; while not a cheap dye job, it had managed to cheapened her look (in his opinion); contrasting so sharply the naturalness of Misato's. Then there was her skin, so pallid in its appearance…in all, you would be hard press to find someone who wouldn't think of her beautiful, but there was an uneasiness about her that agitated Kaji, forming a 'queasiness' around the pit of his stomach.

She smiled at them; while Misato dragged Kaji—arm hoop in his—to greet her. Misato put one hand behind her head apologetic. "I'm sorry. Am I really late?"

"You're late enough," the other woman responded, chastising but still playful. Ritsuko's eyes flicked over to take in Kaji. "So," she said, addressing him; her tone light, "You must be the 'study partner' I keep hearing about."

"One and only," and he gave her then his most charming smile, but she had merely glanced at him up and down. She would later confess to him that she had thought him frivolous then---an opinion that wouldn't change much with time.

Misato glanced between the two of them. "Oh, Ritsuko, this is Kaji—be nice. Kaji, this is Ritsuko."

"Pleased to meet you," she held out her hand.

"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine."

And they had shaken each other's hand, superficially acknowledging each other's existence, before Ritsuko pointed out that they should get in line soon, if they hoped to get in at all.

Once inside, Misato occupied herself with a game of beer pong on the long table, while Kaji sat with Ritsuko off to the side—Misato had insisted on him getting to know her. _She's a really cool person._ And, alone with Ritsuko, Kaji found marked differences between the two women---just exactly how reserved _this_ woman was.

She was content, with a pack of cigarettes set aside by a glass of beer, to just sit and observe. Misato, on the other hand, had flung herself into the crowd and was now hailed the life of the party (she was currently being lifted up by several frat boys).

"So..." he started, "how did you meet Misato?"

"She introduced herself to me."

"Same here."

They smiled at each other, finding commonality. Ritsuko turned to look at where Misato was, observing, "She's quite the people person, isn't she?"

"Understatement of the year." He chuckled.

"And you must be something else yourself," she said, "for her to talk about you so much. Compatibility means you must be just at ease as her socially."

"Is that really what compatibility means?"

"It would suggest, and I see nothing here that would prove otherwise."

And Kaji considered then the calculation in her statement and immediately deduced that he was dealing with a very careful and guarded person. As the minutes ticked, he discovered that making small talk with Ritsuko wasn't that hard; though he found himself weighing the implications of what she was saying with every sentence.

Misato returned after a long absence, face flushed and giddy from the activities she had participated in, and sat herself down at their table.

"Ah, so the prodigal daughter returns."

"Shut up," Misato responded to Ritsuko's tease, finishing with, "I'm too buzzed to understand big words like that." Then she opened her eyes wide to look Ritsuko, trying to see through the alcohol-induced haze. "Say Ritsuko, lend me your shoulder."

"What?"

And before she could say another word, Misato had already plopped her head heavily on Ritsuko, breathing out, tired but pleased.

"Uh, Misato?" Ritsuko turned to look at Kaji for help; and, for the first time that night, he saw Ritsuko out of her element and flustered. "Misato? Your boyfriend is right there. Why don't you use him for a headrest?"

"Mmm, let me stay here," Misato mumbled, "You smell better than he does."

"That, I have to agree with," Kaji said amused.

Misato opened one eye to look at Kaji. "You know this girl," she said, thumbs indicating Ritsuko, who had given up trying to remove Misato's head from her shoulder, "she's such a nerd. Before me, she spent her Friday's in the library. Can you believe that? The library!"

Kaji was sympathetic—Misato looked like she had shifted all her weight to lean against Ritsuko; and he answered Misato's question in regards to Ritsuko, "What a waste."

"Exactly."

***

_Present._

The drive home was quiet. Both of the car's occupants were in pensive moods. Shinji shifted in his seat slightly before glancing over at Misato, who was at the wheel, her eyes focused on something far away.

_The past, maybe?_

Sunday, and they went to get groceries, as usual; but Misato had made one surprising stop that seemed to change everything for the day. She had gone to church. A short pit stop on the way home.

Shinji had never seen his guardian do anything remotely religious; the only indication that she might have been was the cross that hung around her neck. Even then…

"Miss Misato?"

And she broke from her reverie, turning her head to him. He only predicated her name with a 'miss' when something was really bothering him.

He asked then, hesitant with his wording, "Are you…do you…"

"What is it, Shinji?"

"Do you believe in that?" he indicated the cross, which had been such an integral part of her wardrobe that he had taken it for granted; not noticing till now.

"Hmm…why do you ask?"

"It's just…my old teacher…he was a Christian too. And I never guessed that you were…" the last part came out quiet; he was feeling stupid for having bought it up.

But Misato was contemplative, and she asked in return, "Does it bother you? What I believe in?"

"No," he said quickly, hoping not to offend. "I was just wondering. That's all."

When she didn't respond, Shinji lowered his head and settled back in his seat, believing he had said the wrong words yet again.

"Shinji," she began again, after a long beat—a pause for thought. "It doesn't matter what god you believe in or whether you believe in god at all, so long as you have faith in humanity. That's what's important. I wear this because that's my way of expressing that faith."

It was important, she figured, for the pilot of Unit-01 to understand this—to have that connection with the whole of their species. That faith, if he had it, was imperative to their survival—she had realized that the first time she met him and had quietly lamented the lack she perceived in him.

Misato looked outside, at the dusk that was beginning to rest across the bay of TOKYO-3; and reflected on what little time they had left. Not this life. Not her life. But life in its entirety.

"Have courage, Shinji," she told the boy; and Shinji had looked at her, realizing that she wasn't just referring to this instance--and the gravitas of her words stayed with him long after the day fell to darkness.

***

_Late Evening _

He maneuvered the bow, to and fro, as if he were pulling on the invisible chords tendering his heart; gentle, steady--the string giving sound to the to the yearning there; light and long, sometimes deep and short, but they were there. A constant stream of undeterred melodies. And if he closed his eyes, fingers finding purchase on the right string of the cello, deftly pressing and releasing--all by memory, he could feel himself rise, then seemingly borne by something as intangible as 'hope'. As ethereal as 'love.'

This was beauty.

This was his faith.

_JS Bach- Suiten Fur Violoncello Solo 1_

And she had stood by the door, watching his back, cello resting against his leg and shoulder--there was such tenderness to the scene; as if, now alone, he had found a medium for expressing what had always been so elusive. "Shinji Ikari...Wonderboy..." she thought, "You never cease to amaze me."

It wasn't the first time she had seen him play. Living with him for so long, she was bound to encounter it sooner or later. She had seen the instrument case resting in his bedroom; she wasn't stupid.

And how many times had it been like this? With her watching? Listening? She had never bothered telling him; never felt the need to. Why disturb this peace?

But that day, there was something about the way he drew that last note...

The elongated sound that rose and fell, lingering in the air as if suspended...

That made her change her mind.

And he turned around upon hearing her applause. It seemed like the right way to make herself known; and she started out with something unusual; a compliment, "Not bad! I didn't know you played."

He smiled; but surprised, he had to ask, "Asuka? Don't you have a date tonight?"

Tonight, last week...every Friday for the last two months she'd had dates--something which she had rarely done before. It was strange, but Shinji didn't say anything. It wasn't his place to figure out the why. And for Asuka, each one--the dates--seemed more disappointing than the last. She sighed as she walked over and plopped herself down on the futon in the next room, the door still open for Shinji to see and converse with her.

"My date was boring so I ditched him."

"You ditched him?"

"Yep."

Shinji was a slightly shocked and saddened for the guy; but considering it was Asuka he was going out with, this wasn't a surprise. Still, he couldn't help commenting, "That's kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"Maybe..."

She stared at the ceiling, finding herself unable to say the words she was expected to say. _Kaji's the only guy for me._ How much further from the truth was that? What was she looking for? Something closer to comfort, perhaps...

"Shinji, when's dinner?"

***

Dinner was done and finished with; just the two of them, Misato was working overtime tonight. And Shinji was keeping himself busy with reading the new cookbook Asuka had given him a while back. He had thought, at first, that this was an entirely magnanimous gesture on her part; a gift of goodwill...that was until she told him that she wanted to try each and every single one of the dishes (300 to be precise) in the book.

"Still...she did praise me," he thought, recalling how she had said...

"You're a great cook. I concede to you." And she had patted him on the back, saying, "The kitchen is yours."

And he had kept that praise tucked somewhere in between the pages of this book; so now, whenever he had time after schoolwork, he would take it out, glance it over, and absorb anew those words...

"Shinji!"

His head snapped up from the book and he looked to where Asuka was lounging on the pillows. The television was on as usual; and Asuka had turned away from one of her favorite program, looking at him, expectant. "Come sit by me."

He supposed then that he was in shock. One, she had just (voluntarily) ask him to be near her. Two, she had said it in the nicest way. And he couldn't help but think that the world might have been coming to an end at that very moment.

"Huh? What?"

"Idiot, what part of 'come sit by me' don't you understand?" She gestured to an empty pillow, space made especially for him; adding, "Bring that book with you."

And after a few moment of checking if he was, in fact, not hallucinating this, he responded, "Uh..okay, sure."

He sat down next to her, wary, when she frowned and told him, "Dummkopf, how am I suppose to show you what I dish I want you to cook tomorrow unless I can see the book? Come here!" With that she grabbed his arm and tugged him over. "Now let's see..."

Asuka started to flip the pages, skimming through the pictures, the lines: 1 cup that, 2 teaspoons there, chopped something...

And all Shinji was aware of was their proximity--Shinji had held out the book, while she leaned over his arms, head lowered so that she was reading from his lap; and her head of hair--those lustrous locks of orange-red (the color of sunset...he had never seen that c.,olor on a person before her), was right below his nose; Shinji thought that his heart stopped. It must have.

Restarting slowly. Cautiously---that heart of his.

And Shinji, recovering, started to realize exactly how close they were; he could smell sweet strawberries--the shampoo that she used, mixed with some kind of powdery scent. Fresh. She smelled fresh. And he decided that the subtleness of that scent--that lull-- that was a much better than Misato's perfume, which overpowered him and made him sneeze.

There were so much there to describe; Shinji hardly realized that he was categorizing the details of this moment in his mind. It was automatic; how when she turned slightly, he had looked at her cheeks, the smoothness of it. Like that of a child's.

How long was he in that stupor when she had lifted her head and looked at him with sympathy? One eyebrow cocked and an understanding smile on her face, as if she empathized with--could sense-- what afflicted him then; this hopeless infatuation.

_Asuka? Empathy?_

"Shinji," she said, a kindness coming through her voice that he didn't recognize; but had so often imagined that she was capable of. "What would you say if I let you kiss me now?"

He fumbled, blushing a furious red, as he recalled when the last time she was moved by an urge like that, "What? You mean...like before?"

"Yeah."

She could see him hesitate, wrestling with the urge to say yes, simultaneously recalling how unpleasant she had made that previous kiss; so, she added, "And this time, I won't cut off your oxygen supply. I promise."

"Um...you won't?"

"Nope."

And he had looked at her then--big brown, puppy-like eyes, trying to ascertain if this was one (cruel) joke.

Asuka had grabbed him by the shoulder to motivate him, reassuring, "I promise, didn't I? I keep my promises." Then she approached, like before, closing the gap between their faces. And this time, Shinji's too stunned to close his eyes--whereas in the other incident, she had issued it as a challenge; here it was an offer.

She had tilted her head towards him, eyes half closed as she judged the distance of her lips from him.

He swallowed. Hard.

_Have courage, Shinji..._

And then, her eyes did close, meeting those lips now, in what had to be the softest kiss in Shinji's life; not that he had very many to compare it with, but still...

And she kept her promise, hands straying nowhere to pinch his nose; instead, she kept steady pressure where the kiss was concern. And it wasn't her smashing against his face (again, like the last time, where he could only concentrate on _breathing_), but, here, he could actually _taste_ her. And she stayed long enough for him to discern the complexity that was there.

And just as abrupt as the kiss began, it ended with Asuka cutting of contact and throwing her arms up, declaring, "Well, I'm off to bed."

"Huh? What?"

He could only gawk, uncomprehending, as she stood and--before he realized how quickly--she was at her bedroom door; she stopped long enough to turn to him and smiled; again, that compassionate look. "Good niggghhhttt, Shinnnjiiii."

That was when the door closed, leaving Shinji to wonder about what the hell had transpired here.

_To be continued..._

______________________________________________________________________________

**Author's Notes:**

**This was a chapter I debated whether or not to write. Then figured, what the hell, so here it is. It provided a good break in the action so that there wouldn't be an overload of Misato/Ritsuko stuff. In any case, it touched upon the periphery of their relationship, and this chapter builds on the triangle between Kaji, Ritsuko, and Misato that has such an importance in the series.**

**Also, I really, really wanted an Asuka/Shinji chapter. Some people may dislike Asuka--and yes, she does come on strong, but I have a soft spot for her; especially after watching her kick berserker ass in Eva Rebirth. For Asuka, I had her obsessed about adulthood to the point of neurosis--she is very insecure in her own worth, and this is just one area of insecurity I got from the canon. It's only when she's able to let go of that obsession with being an adult (and Kaji), that she, paradoxically, matures and is able to look for 'healthy' connection with other people. That doesn't mean she escapes her fate of eventual depression as portrayed in the canonical series; remember, she still has unresolved issues with her mother. Nor does she get over her jealousy of Shinji, though the beginnings of love does temper it.**

**I also really wanted to find a resolution for Asuka's crush on Kaji. I never liked it much. **

**Not to worries though, all hell will eventually break loose.**

**Leave a review and quick! It makes it easier to endure writing long term, believe me. Seriously, if you're reading this fic and not leaving a review cuz you're lazy, then a pox on you I SAY.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5_  
Episode 16: The Splitting of the Beast_

*********

"_Atsui ne..."_

Ritsuko was inclined to agree. It was hot. Exceedingly  
so...

The seasons disappeared years ago.

What was once autumn--the fall--had vanished  
completely; and with it, so did the piles of red leaves  
which once strewn the ground, common and easily  
missed; with it, so too vanished various species of plants  
too weak to survive such a global and lasting change. But  
the Second Impact had not or could not vanquish the  
remnants of summer; the apache heat that stayed late into  
the evening; the cloudless skies; the stickiness that came  
when you mixed the dusty air with perspiring skin.

And Ritsuko wonders how it was like back then when the  
seasons were predictable. A 365 day calendar with clear  
demarcations; how Mother Nature would merge so  
seamlessly the spring into summer then fall, finally  
winter; only to repeat.

Misato pop open another beer can. _Tsshhh, _the sound of  
the gas escaping when she cracked the stay-tab; one  
finger clicking back. And she settled again next to  
Ritsuko, sitting with her back to the refrigerator door; the  
cold air generated within managed to seep through,  
helping to cool the backs that were leaning against it.  
They had been sitting there like so for the past hour...

No air conditioning...that was broken.

"So hot..." she said again, for the hundredth time this  
evening it seemed, while she tugged on the collar of her  
tank top and flapped it back and forth to air whatever  
stagnant air inside--as if that could cool her off. It did  
moderately little besides drawing Ritsuko's eyes, however  
inadvertently, to that dip where the collar of her shirt had  
parted from her skin, following a single droplet of sweat  
that glisten and roll lazily downward...

And just as quickly, Ritsuko averted her gaze, eyes  
shifting sideways. Gone were the days when that  
unsettled feeling flustered her; there were too many  
instances of that by now for her to be flustered. Instead,  
she bit down—agitated and annoyed whenever she found  
herself looking where she shouldn't; finding purpose  
when there she insisted there was none.

So she shuffled her feet, trying to forget how  
(in)discreetly she had considered leaning over---to do  
what? To touch that trail of water that trickled down so  
tempting? Even worst….to taste? No. No, she denied.

It wasn't like that.

Misato had noticed her friend's sudden downturn in  
mood and looked over. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I was…" And she talked about, of all things,  
her last boyfriend. "I was just thinking…"

"About?"

"Him."

"Oh."

_She's still not over him…_

"This month…we started seeing each other this month,"  
Ritsuko continued, turning her head to search Misato's  
face, as if the she could empathize. "We're counting  
one year ago."

But Misato had never been involved in an illicit  
relationship and she couldn't relate; even though she did  
feel sorry for her friend having to be tangled up in  
something so complicated.

"What is it about men?"

"Why are you asking me?" Misato blinked surprised and  
amusement at the suddenness of Ritsuko's question. "I  
know just as much as you do."

"You have Kaji and that's working out. So you must be  
doing something right---know something that I don't."

"About men?" And here, Misato laughed. "Kaji's not  
a man. He's still a boy and we're just kids…" Misato  
leaned her chin into her hand as she considered that—  
a sort of wistful dreaminess to her voice when she finished:  
"Kids playing house. I don't know much more than that."

"But you love him."

"Yeah…"

Misato took another swing of her beer and Ritsuko took  
the opportunity to do the same. Around them were strewn  
a variety of junk food: a pizza box half finished, candy  
bars, and several ice cream pints of many given flavors.  
Ritsuko grabbed the pint she was working on, scooping in  
and she laughed when she curled her tongue underneath  
that plastic spoon. "Beer and ice cream...Misato, you are  
a bad influence on me."

"What do you have?" Misato leaned over and turned the  
ice cream pint to read the label. "Ew…toffee? With  
beer?" She made a face and pushed Ritsuko playfully on  
the shoulder, laughing. And it was so comfortable,  
spending casual nights like this; it had been since  
she moved in. She would've never guessed how easy  
_everything_ was living as her roommate, despite how  
obsessively organized Ritsuko was…

Papers shuffled away in labeled folders....

Folders then filed alphabetically in a filing cabinet; and  
Misato wondered, did she know of anyone who owned a  
filing cabinet outside an office before Ritsuko?

But Ritsuko was quiet, studious…witty; and she  
complemented, so perfectly, all the idiosyncrasies  
Misato had; the messiness; the loudness—all that noise…

And Ritsuko didn't know whether it was the nice buzz  
that foamed about her brain withering her judgment…or  
whether it was the heat; and it wasn't necessarily bravery  
that prompted her to do what she did next, but rather  
something she didn't even consider when she had reached  
out, suddenly, to take Misato's right hand and interlaced  
it with hers; bringing it—those hands—up to face level  
and turning it over in peculiar observation; like she was  
studying a specimen she didn't quite understand…

How strange…her hand fitted so nicely, resting compliant  
in the crooks---the dip between each finger.

And it was such a surprisingly intimate gesture, the  
closest they've ever been, causing Misato to blush.

"Uh…Ritsuko?"

She hesitated, watching as Ritsuko looked fascinated at  
that hand, imitating way that Kaji would do the same  
after a bout of lovemaking; as he would marvel with  
Misato lying in his embrace—removed, as it were,  
momentarily from this world.

And it struck her then—for the first time ever—just  
how _beautiful_ Ritsuko was…

Sitting there…

A study of calmness underneath the yellow-white  
fluorescent kitchen lighting.

And Misato took it all in, her eyes widening, seeing for  
the first time a strange possibility; her heart constricted in  
unconscious recognition, as if speaking, _I've seen and  
known of attraction…_

Just what was it?

That drew in such longing…

And Misato would have time to go over it later, months  
from now, when she could afford the distance and clarity  
to understand what was taking place in that kitchen. She  
would understand then…that it wasn't anything particular  
about Ritsuko; not any body part that held her gaze more  
than any other--though there was something to say about  
the physicality of 'seeing' Ritsuko. She would discern  
later that it was an intangible aura enclosed around  
Ritsuko; that sense of pervasive loneliness and  
melancholy---she could describe it as nothing else, but  
knew well enough that she wanted to hold her then;  
assuage _that_, even if it was just imagined.

As if sensing Misato's line of thought, Ritsuko asked,  
"Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"Huh?"

She blinked rapidly, snapping out of a self-induced trance;  
and she realized that Ritsuko was looking at her and how  
she had been caught staring...

_Blink, you idiot, _she chastised herself.

"If I meet her again," Ritsuko started, "I want to apologize."

It took her a while, but Misato finally caught on to who  
_her_ was, and, what's more, that Ritsuko hadn't forgiven  
herself for transgressing; her affair with the other  
woman's husband. The professor.

Misato frowned upon reaching that conclusion; and she  
replies, firm, "No." Then, so that there could be no  
mistake, she repeated: "No. I don't think you're a bad  
person."

***

_8 years later…_

_NERV TEMPORARY OPERATIONAL UNIT_

She couldn't recognize the sound…

When her palm had connected with flesh in that  
manner…

And she'd hardly believe it happened if it wasn't for the  
image of Ritsuko in front of her: face turned downwards,  
hand held over her cheek---the one that Misato struck in  
anger; in fury; in impulse.

And for a long moment neither women moved.

In the background, all around them, the noise of the  
helicopters and radios whipped about; blaring, it seemed.  
Yet here between them, in this space, there was silence...

Ritsuko whipped around, wounded and indignant. "If  
Shinji's lost, it's your fault. Remember that!"

And Misato had listened as Ritsuko explained it the  
situation, but none of it made any sense…

Dirac Sea, mathematical mumbo jumbo, physics, graph  
readings…all of it amounted to the same thing. Shinji's  
gone. And we're sorry, but there's not a damn thing we  
can do about it.

And when she had confronted Ritsuko, she had learned  
that there was no rescue plan.

_He had called out her name: "Miss Misato! Help me,  
Misato! MISATO!!"_

Ritsuko was planning to authorize dropping an  
incalculable number of N2 depth charges into the belly  
of the beast—the shadowy body of the ANGEL, that  
inverted AT Field of negative space—while Shinji was  
still alive and lost within it. The only rescue she had in  
mind was of UNIT-01; salvageable, while Shinji's life  
remained a secondary concern. An afterthought...

She struck Ritsuko then, never imagining that she would  
be the first; and it was justified…even more now when  
she yanked Ritsuko by the collar of her labcoat and  
bought them face to face, seething, "You heartless bitch.  
You would sacrifice Shinji's life to retrieve a stupid piece  
of machine?!"

But Ritsuko didn't flinch; she glared back, defiant. "That _  
machine_, Misato, is the only thing standing between us  
and another Second Impact. You, of all people, should  
know _exactly_ how important it is that we prevent that  
from happening."

And it was Misato who flinched first; flashbacks of the  
Second Impact…her father and all hellfire and brimstone  
came back to her; and Ritsuko was right. Misato had  
seen---stood witness closer than any other soul on Earth  
to the beginning of the end.

And her heart broke at its memory even while she pushed  
onwards, knowing that this was much larger than  
herself…or any ghosts that haunted the corners of her  
mind.

"That's not just it, is it? What happens after the ANGELS  
are gone? What then?" Misato demanded to know: "What  
exactly is the Second Impact?"

"You've been given all the information, Major!"

"That's bull."

It occurred to Misato then that this—NERV's purpose—  
couldn't be as simple as preventing the foreseen Third  
Impact. Moreover, Misato saw the extent of which NERV  
was ready to go in order to realize its goal. Ambition,  
god-like complexes and such a callous disregard  
for human life…

A dangerous mix.

She felt Ritsuko's hand close around her—around those  
hands still gripping tight and menacing on Ritsuko's  
collar; and she heard her voice say, gentle: "Trust me,  
Misato…" She felt---couldn't help but feel that familiar  
weakness come down in regards to Ritsuko when the  
other woman's demeanor had soften, looking as if…as  
if…as if…

She was sorry.

"Despite appearances," Ritsuko continued, "I am on your  
side. I won't let that happen again to you…not by _them_."

_The scar…_

"Ritsuko…?"

She never said a word—it was a quiet promise, spoken  
aloud now only to say, "Trust me."

_I trust you…_

Misato thinks…she had to. Anything else was too painful  
even to contemplate.

And she freed Ritsuko, letting go of the collar of her coat;  
she watched still as Ritsuko stoop to pick up her  
glasses that Misato had smacked off her moments earlier,  
and placed them back on her face; adjusting and entirely  
blameless. She brushed by Misato, issuing instructions:  
"Forward all flights to Kankuu airport. Contact air control  
and air transport division to the JDAF."

It was a cold but arguably necessary affair.

Misato lowered her head and closed her eyes; holding  
back, fist clenched, while the voice in her conscience  
hissed at her. She had told herself that it wasn't like that---  
that she wasn't like Ritsuko; she would not sacrifice  
Shinji.

But it--the lies, false comfort--tasted like tears; bitter  
and salty.

"_No_," that voice persisted, _"You accepted the possibility  
of him dying the moment you saw him to UNIT-01…when  
you had begged him to save our world."_

***

_8 years ago…_

_UNIVERSITY OF SECOND TOKYO_

Morning, and already sweltering hot; but it was cooler  
now than it would be for the rest of the day; and Misato  
took advantage of this moment, running—heart pounding  
in her chest, as she took her regular jogging path from the  
University's campus to home; about a mile or so of  
sneakers crunching down on pavement and dirt, finding  
something calm and meditative in that repetition…

She had gotten up before the crack of dawn, slipping out  
of her bed and pulling on jogging shorts; and she had  
glanced over to where Ritsuko slept on her side of the  
room---at the raised lump where her body was underneath her  
thin blanket, before she stepped into her running shoes  
and walked out the door.

_The feel of last night still warm in mind…in her hands…_

Where Ritsuko had laced their fingers together…

And Misato wanted to get away, just to clear her thoughts  
for a bit. If she couldn't work through it, at the very least,  
by the end of the run, she could exhaust her reserves to  
think; whichever worked…

The building came into view.

Misato slowed her steps down just a bit.

***

Inside, the windows were open allowing for fresh air. The  
blinds, however, were pulled down to provide enough  
darkness for a sound sleeper to carry on well into  
the afternoon. She heard the door creak open; and knew that  
Misato had entered the room, back from her morning jog;  
heard her breathing, still a little worked up from having  
run so fast for so far.

For the longest time Ritsuko's eyes remained closed. She  
woke first when Misato rolled out of bed about half an  
hour ago, but had kept her eyes closed then; falling back  
into a superficial sleep. And now that Misato was back…

She tried---feigned on sleeping, but it was difficult with  
Misato padding about even if her roommate was trying to  
be quiet as possible. And what compelled her…

But her eyes had opened, just slightly; enough to see  
Misato standing near her bed, shorts already discarded,  
now in the process of tugging off her shirt; she then  
dropped it to the floor. And Ritsuko watched still as  
Misato undid the clasp to her bra, pulling the straps from  
her shoulder…

Misato wasn't modest.

She never had a reason to be. There was, after all, a  
certain level of comfort afforded with Ritsuko. They had  
been to bathhouses together; spent so much time lounging  
around, completely at ease around each other.

So it wasn't new when Misato had turned around to look  
for that large shirt that she had left somewhere on the  
floor; it wasn't new…that sight of Misato's scar—that one that  
ran like a signature down the middle of her chest;  
and Misato had explained to her that it was incurred from  
a bike accident when she was little. Still, Ritsuko  
wondered how badly that wound cut for it to still remain  
there…glaring…

Telling of how badly she must've bled…

And Ritsuko couldn't bring herself to imagine it.

***

It was odd---how some people say you can feel a  
person looking at you.

Just know that they are, before you actually see them  
looking back.

Misato felt it; a shiver going through her spine as she  
paused when she had bent down with one hand on her  
shirt. And her eyebrows furrowed when she lifted her  
head slightly to see Ritsuko aside on the bed where she  
laid, eyes closed. Sound asleep.

But, standing there, in the stillness of their shared room,  
Misato couldn't shake that feeling; that _knowing_ that  
perhaps…just perhaps…Ritsuko had peek from under  
those covers. What then?

And it bothered her.

Perhaps just as much as it bothered Ritsuko every time  
she reflexively wondered if today, of all days, Misato  
would return from her morning jogs and slip into bed  
with her…

It took too much honesty to admit that; admit how the  
curves of Misato's hips and breasts excited her; admit  
how lovely she found the auburn brown of Misato's  
eyes—the soft features of her face. It took too much to  
admit those inappropriate thoughts that wandered in and  
out of her mind whenever she looked too  
long…considered too much how Misato would feel and  
be close, close to her.

Too much honesty. Too difficult. Too hard.

So she curled inward when she heard Misato slip back  
into her separate bed. It was easier—much easier, to  
chalk the whole thing up to envy: that Misato was  
beautiful, and Ritsuko coveted her beauty---yes, much  
easier.

Misato let out a sigh.

It was Saturday morning. A good time to sleep in.

To be continued...

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

I was surprised by how introverted this chapter turned out  
to be. Believe me, it wasn't intentional. That being said, I  
liked the way this turned out. It felt much more 'truthful'  
to the characters and the general direction of the fic. The  
first version was fun, but it felt very rough and out of  
place. The feelings flushed out in this chapter will have  
much more resonance down the line, I think...

I also changed the format; it reads better this way.  
I'll probably go back and do so for the previous chapters.  
Hope it's not too disorienting.

As for the story ending happily. I've thought about it before  
I started writing, but, again, it just didn't seem truthful to  
the direction I was heading; which is why I categorized  
_Cat's Paw _under angst. I still hope you continue reading  
and stick with me through this.

Feedback is always welcome.


	6. Chapter 6: part 1

Chapter 6.1

_Episode 16: Sickness unto Death (part 1)_

*********

Although recently constructed, the University's largest lecture auditorium had the feel of having existed for centuries. Not that it was old or dilapidated; but the space was maintained in a way that gave visitors a grand sense of tradition, even if that tradition never existed; pulled into being from artifice. Dim yellow lighting shone out of decorated orbs lining the high vaulted ceilings, which were curved to amplify the sound of the speaker. Rich mahogany and oak integrated with the walls and seating of the place, along with dark plum-colored carpeting on the stairs, all came together to create a rich and regal atmosphere.

Most days, the room was poorly underutilized and wasted; its vast size accommodated daily lectures with ample space to spare. Today, however, not a single seat was left unoccupied. People sat side by side, packed in tight…

And even then, they knew they were lucky…

This was the most anticipated event of career week. Literally hundreds of students had camped in front of the ticket booths for just the chance to purchase the tickets to be here; Misato among them. Wet and in the pouring rain, they sat in little makeshift circles the Friday night earlier, because, on that stage, at this moment, one of the most distinguished scientists of their time was speaking: Doctor Naoko Akagi of GEHIRN.

And Misato sat in rapt as the speaker opened her mind to new possibilities; to brave new worlds.

"Following the advents of AI," the woman on stage continued, "it was only logically that we advance. In other words, evolve this newfound artificial intelligence. Here were aspects of ourselves..."

She went to illuminate the proposed MAGI system which were urrently in development—the pride of the GEHIRN. But Ritsuko, who was next to Misato and their two friends in the audience, couldn't be any less interested. She had finished a brand new pack of cigarettes before coming here; fingers shifting uncharacteristically nervous when she handled the smoke. And now…

She wondered if anybody sensed how out of place she felt. How restless she was being crunched in between these rows of people to watch her...

Misato had a wanted to come here. Not her.

Misato had camped out in the rain for the tickets, which were limit to purchases of two. Not her.

And when Misato had asked---practically begged for Ritsuko to come, she had only reluctantly acquiesced; now with her eyes only glancing in short intervals at the lectern, meeting with the woman who stood there in quick glances.

The slide projector clicked to show the various images on the huge screen behind Naoko as she presented them. "We are developing MAGI globally—across all branches of GEHIRN. These supercomputers will help us redevelop the world post-Impact. More importantly, it'll help us to protect what is left."

And there were the slides of the GEHIRN branches:

Matsushiro, Japan.

Berlin, Germany.

Hamburg, Germany.

Boston, Massachusetts.

Beijing, China.

Photographs of locations which painted a portrait; drawing into reality the scope of which Naoko was only touching on.

"As you can see," she said, "this effort is disperse across all nations. Exciting, isn't it? And on that note, I just like to conclude with the hope that you'll be joining me at GEHIRN in the near future. Thank you." And she bowed, most politely, at the rousing applause that followed; a small smile to the hosting dean who was onstage with her.

The dean, in return, was practically gushing as he spoke into another microphone. "Thank you, Doctor Akagi, for taking your time to come speak with the students of Tokyo University. I'd just like to say again what an honor it is to have you here."

Misato leaned in to whisper: "Neat, isn't it."

"Exciting."

Ritsuko's one word response, spoken—tellingly—without much enthusiasm. Misato frowned at her friend, who looked away.

Meanwhile the dean had taken the time to say, "Now, I'd like to open the floor to questions from the front row."

The front rows were, of course, the privilege seats—well bought and paid for; and the attendants wasted no time in raising their hands. A male student rose to ask the first question, taking on the microphone that was past to him by an usher. "Dr. Akagi, you say the MAGI computers are in actuality bio-computers?"

"Yes."

"As in living?"

"In a sense…" She thought quietly of how she should elaborate. "Personality transfer along with a built in dilemma system help to replicate—the interaction, similar to the way people would in conferences. The brain of the system has a biological core. So in that sense, they are living. Eternal in a way people can never be."

_There were implications to this…_

"So long as they're maintained, the personality implanted in that brain will survive for perpetuity. That is the intention." She finished, satisfied with her response.

But the student pressed on. "So…they're like…humans?"

A hush fell over the room and, for the first time that evening, Ritsuko's eyes stayed on her mother, watching carefully. It was a touchy subject. Cloning had been officially banned by Genova convention pre-Second Impact: the making of people by people via artificial means had been banned with a clear reproval: _We do not want men playing God._

What was the MAGI then, if not a grey area, wracked with moral ambiguity.

And how would she answer this? She, with the short bob hair and emerald-green eyes; she--who was in the process of giving birth to that same system?

But Naoko remained unnervingly calm despite the brilliant glare of the spotlight shining down her, having accustomed herself to these inquisitions of men. And she answered, "Like humans? Hmm…no, I wouldn't say so. They lack a metaphysical component…"

Her eyes closed as she pondered internally what she was reaching it. It was kind of silly, she thought—what she was about to say. But there was really no other way to express it besides affirming that bio-computers lack an essentially 'human' component that only God could endow: "What some people would call a soul."

***

_Aftermath and Psychosis._

_Aftermath and Psychosis._

_Aftermath and Psychosis…_

And he had said, "I just wanted to see them…one last time…," as her arms fell about him to embrace him.

***

_Present day._

Shinji awoke in a dazed stupor. His senses registered that he was still alive. Ayanami was there besides him, reading her book and so was Asuka, who hid just outside his door—pride preventing her from coming in.

But something had changed…

In the few seconds since waking and the short-lived joy in knowing that he had made it back against all odds, he realized that---something had changed.

His body was intact and, at least for the moment, he was safe, swaddled in the lint smell of washed and aged hospital sheets. He felt it deep inside though; the cracks; as if some part of his psyche had been irreparably damaged within the ANGEL; and he had returned, his mind broken and put back together in mismatched pieces. Jagged glass edges cutting into each other.

_Okasan…_

***

"A psych evaluation?"

"Yes. That's the recommendation from the higher ups. SEELE included."

Misato raised her eyebrow thinking of those "higher ups." _Commander Ikari and sub-Commander Fuyutsuki…of course._ "What about you?" she asked.

Ritsuko, who stood in front of Misato, answered. "I'm not going to lie to you, Misato. Under the circumstances, I have to second that recommendation."

"I see…"

Misato sat at her desk, legs crossed while she looked up at the other woman, regarding her the same way one would regard a particularly unreadable chess opponent. In her hands were the approval papers that awaited her signature to sign off on. She was, after all, Shinji Ikari's designated guardian; but she knew, as well as Ritsuko knew, that this—the paperwork, her signing—was all for show. Whether she approved or not was beside the point. Shinji was going to be evaluated. End of story. Still…

She asked, "They're worried, aren't they?" Her eyes turned towards Ritsuko. "You're worried…that he won't be able to synch with EVA."

Ritsuko didn't say anything, so Misato continued, "But you saw his test results in the stimulation bodies today. He's fine."

_He's fine._

That last part was more for herself than it was for Ritsuko. She needed to convince—had been trying desperately to convince herself that this was true. And on the surface, it would seem that everything was fine. He had survived; came back to her; and now, carried on as usual. But there was an undercurrent…

Something she couldn't quite put her finger on; how everyone had sense it.

Quieter?

No. Shinji had always been quiet.

But you can sense madness; how the seeds of it, already there in Shinji's mind, had now taken root. That underneath that quiet exterior, a psychosis was sprouting, born of fears; of poisonous insecurities.

Even Asuka kept her distance.

It's been a week now, and it was getting harder and harder to deny facts: Shinji was slipping away.

Misato didn't want to believe it; and she clung onto any evidence to the contrary—no matter how small or insignificant—as if it was her only lifeline. "He's still able to control EVA."

"Shinji's strong," Ritsuko acknowledged, adding quietly, "Stronger than we give him credit for."

_But…_

"There's only so much a mind can handle before it breaks down or implodes on itself."

Misato took a moment to consider the weight of Ritsuko's words before she grabbed a pen, clicked and signed away at the line.

***

1:00 P.M.

Shinji was formally excused from school for an unscheduled test at the GEOFRONT. Pilot Ayanami and Pilot Sohryu were to stay behind and carry on with normal routine. Asuka had taken the announcement by lowering head when Shinji passed by her desk on the way out the classroom. Contention…worries (_love?)…_all those dynamically opposing forces of care and hate swelled and ebbed in her body, and when he passed by, her hands twitched—that urge to reach out…

_To suddenly grasp his…_

But Asuka kept her hands by her side and her head stayed lowered.

1:14

The Third Child exited school grounds and is escorted by NERV personnel to an awaiting vehicle.

1:40

Arrival at Geofront.

Shinji expressed surprise that they're not going to the cage where the normal facilities were. All information following this point is classified.

***

A light was shone into his eye and the pupil dilated.

"Hmm…normal response. Good. Good," a gruff male voice commented before he clicked the small flashlight off and turned to make notes on his clipboard.

Shinji looked to the only other person in the room, his face silently begging for an explanation. But Ritsuko had just looked back from where she stood and smiled; a small, comforting smile. He wasn't told much when he was ushered in this enclosed office except that they were going to do something different today and that she—Ritsuko—needed his full cooperation and confidentiality.

"Shinji, this is Dr. Friedrich Katz," she said, introducing him then to the man who would be shining that light in his eyes; a man with a full and bushy beard, salt-pepper hair and small squinty eyes. "He's a friend of mine and I've ask him to come here from Berlin to see you. He's the top in his field, so you can be sure you're in safe hands."

"Ikari."

"Sir," Shinji shook those hands that were offered to him then and took comfort in how steady they felt despite the leathery and wrinkled texture of it…

Now he sat in a long reclining chair after a series of regular checkups, and he realized—at last--what this room reminded him of: a psychiatrist office. Like the one he sat in with his father after his mother's death. A queasy feeling came over him. And that feeling was only amplified when Katz opened a briefcase to pull out a specialized syringe, squeezing and prepping it for injection.

Shinji's eyes widened as he watched the liquid squirt out from the steel needle tip.

The doctor saw his look of fear and assuaged him by way of explanation, "This is just a psychotropic drug. You needn't concern yourself with the name except to know that it's perfectly safe in small doses."

The doctor approached, saying, "Sure, in large doses anything can kill you. But like this…" he dabbed a piece of cotton on Shinji's left arm, aiming for the vein. "Like this, it'll help open you up."

"Open me up?"

Shinji winced as he felt the needle slide into that vein on the side within the fold of his elbow. Too late for protest, but he still wanted to know. "How?" he asked. _How will it open me up? _That didn't sound particular appealing to him.

Katz pulled out the syringe and replied, "It'll amplify both your subconscious and reaction to it, so that we can monitor it."

"What?"

Ritsuko took a seat besides Katz's desk and answered for the doctor, "A dream, Shinji. We're going to induce a deep sleep during which time Dr. Katz will guide you with a series of suggestions and questions. Think of it like we're trying to make a map of your psyche."

Within that short period of time since Katz had administer the shot, Shinji could feel the first effects of the drugs coursing through his body as he grew limp, sleep calling to him like a distant Siren, beautiful and alluring in her song; even as he grew distressed, realizing then just how potentially invasive—what they were trying to do. That his psyche was not---and should not be exposed and put together like a puzzle.

It was too late.

And he felt Ritsuko's hand squeeze his; comfort. "Relax," her voice seem to echo, melodious in the darkness that was beginning to overtake him. "We just want to se where you are…how you're doing…"

And then…

He was alone.

Katz observed, watching the boy's head lull back on the pillow of the couch, "He's in the first stages. We can begin now."

Katz walked to sit behind his desk and prepared himself as he clicked on the tape recorder, which was on the table between himself and Ritsuko. He began, "This is Dr. Friedrich Katz. It is 2:18 JST and we are commencing with subject, Shinji Ikari, 14 year old, male."I have here Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, who will be the supervising attendee on this case." He looked to Ritsuko, "Shall we begin?"

"Yes."

***

_8 years ago. _

_TOYKO UNIVERSITY, LECTURE HALL_

She stepped out into the hallway, breathing in deeply. If ever there was a crucible, she felt like she had just been through it and had luckily emerged still intact. All around her, the crowd in the lecture was starting to disperse; excited and obscenely noisy as they chatted about GEHIRN and their future in relations to it. She could care less.

After a moment of breathing in deeply to clear her thoughts, she patted around the side of her jeans…

Nothing.

She forgot—how unlike her—that she had smoked her last pack in a frenzy hours before the event had begun. And she looked to her companions, saying, "I feel like a smoke. Do you have any?"

Of the two guys, one answered back, "I do."

"Let's go outside then."

She started to head out with him following when their other friend stopped them. "Hold on. What about Misato? Shouldn't we wait for her?"

Ritsuko sighed. _Of course…_

Misato was still inside, along with many others still trying to meet with Dr. Akagi. And Ritsuko never told her of Naoko's relationship to herself. Hundreds with the Akagi surname within the whole of Japan; and what was she except one among them. Misato made an offhanded comment about that—how Ritsuko shared that last name with Naoko, but the other girl never gave any indication that there was deeper connection.

She looked back, through the opened doors of the lecture auditorium and shook her head. "No. We can wait for her outside."

***

_Present._

_Where am I?_

Shinji shook his hands in front of his face and it blurred in a motion of pale apricot-colored lingering lines…everything clouded and hazy; and it was obvious—the answer to his question: _I must be dreaming._

But already he felt that this was no ordinary dream. It was more real. More vivid. And he had never been so aware and (maybe ironically) more conscious despite being and knowing he was asleep.

_I feel like I'm awake…_

And as he stepped forward, however hesitantly, out of the darkness, a scene revealed itself to him: a strange living room he had never been to…

Cut in a corner of that vast empty space of black.

And he realized that he was staring at a multitude of ghostly, illuminated white figures occupying that room; his eyes widening in shocked recognition as fear shot through his back.

"Ayanami, Rei."

Her name escaping as a faint whisper bordering a gasp. And 'they' looked back at him; some laughing; some not; all staring ghastly in his direction. Rei Ayanami in various stages of dress, in varying ages. But all Rei…

Mirrored like a surrealist painting in the light and play of his mind: Rei, draped over the ledge of the window. Rei, aged 10, sitting on the couch. Rei, floating about him.

And he had to shut his eyes for the pressing fear that somehow, just by looking at her, she had the power to extract his soul….

And he shut his eyes as if to keep the impending nightmare—he was sure of it--at bay.

His knees gave and he found himself sitting, pleading quietly: "Please, please, leave me alone."

To be continued…

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

This is, by far, the most intensive chapter I've ever written. I had to split it into two! It was just way too long to make a good reading if I kept a chunk of text in one chapter.

I went about this imagining that Shinji had emerged from encounter with the 12th ANGEL as much more damaged than in the series; much like the experience with Asuka being mind raped by ARAEL.

To clarify, Misato doesn't know that Ritsuko is Naoko's daughter at this point in the flashback. I don't know if Akagi is a common Japanese surname, but its fiction so I'm taking liberty here. I'll be exploring Ritsuko's reluctance to talk about Naoko in future chapters and how their relationship is played out.

Also, I discovered fanfiction . net has a formatting button on top of the reading screen that lets you read in ½ view, haha; so I don't have to go about the trouble of spacing the fic. Read it this way—that's how it's meant to be.

If anyone actually reads these notes, I'd like to make a mention that this story is going to get darker from here on out. I guess I should post a warning in the short description.

Feedback is always welcome.


	7. Chapter 6: part 2

Chapter 6.2

_Episode 16: Sickness unto Death (part 2)_

*********

*warning*

The following content is intended to be extremely graphic and disturbing. Read at your own discretion.

*********

"_Shinji…"_

When he felt a hand slide on his thigh he recoiled having anticipated coldness, like that of death, grasp at him--Ayanami's. But he found instead warm, gentle fingers kneading where they rested on his leg. Soft. Benevolent, whoever they belonged to—he knew that even without opening his eyes to see…

He gasped.

He recognized that voice.

She was with him only moments before…

And her touch when she had squeezed his hands as he slowly drifted away…

He remembered them acting then like a friend guiding him; cut across dark like a beam of light would from a distant lighthouse.

This, however, was different. There was another dimension where her hand were so intimately settled on the crook of his leg---too close; something else implied in how it lingered there. He couldn't recognize what…

"Dr. Akagi…?" he asked.

And he dared, after a long moment, to finally open his eyes to look up.

Sure enough, she sat, staring back at him. And what he found there unnerved him. Her look—when she regarded him—was at once familiar and strange. Familiar, in that there was concern there; a trait she commonly showed him. Strange, in that…what?

And it clicked—where he had seen this look before. A completely random memory; how his dorky friends had shown him the movies on a dare—and he cringed inwardly at the thought of those dirty images flashing before him. The stare of those girls when they looked at one another…at the camera…

The way Ritsuko was looking at him now. Semi-predatorily.

His breath hitched in his throat; mind running through the possibilities.

"You're afraid, Shinji," she said.

Not a question. No doubts. Just a point of fact.

He looked around for help; for another person besides him. But he found only the one short coffee table aside him in this foreign living room; a spotlight where all else around him was dark.

"She's gone," the woman said.

Rei Ayanami was gone—all incarnations of her had vanished as inexplicably as they had appeared.

"You needn't be afraid of me." Her hand ran dangerously up his leg, brushing by…

And she was leaning in to…

"Ritsuko! Don't!" he panicked and smacked her hand away and scrambling back; the beginnings of arousal spiked within his body.

But she didn't let up, following after him on her hands and knees. Possessed, as it were, by an unknown force—like a sexual demon. And Shinji didn't know or recognize her like this…

And he had backed up until he bumped shortly into something solid behind him: another woman, who had thrown her arms around him neck, nails raking inside his shirt as her breath came hot on the back of his neck, raising the little hairs there. He yelled, "Ahhh!"

But she, whoever she was, held on fast; pulling him flushed against her; the shape of her breasts melding against his back. "We know, Shinji."

And even as the purple of her hair fell on his shoulder as she kissed the nape of his neck, he couldn't believe it…while Ritsuko had reached him and grabbed him by his hips to move him into position. Her face lowered when she said, "We know, Shinji."

"Know what?"

His voice came out as a squeak as these two women worried over him; and the woman behind him answered, "How you like to watch."

_Do you like to watch?_

"Do you?" Ritsuko asked then as her hands caressed the sides of his stomach, moving so sensuously lower to draw down the zipper of his black school uniform; over what was so obviously his painful erection...

And Shinji cried out terror-stricken.

He was just a boy. Just a boy.

And they….they….

He wasn't ready for this; didn't want this—seeing them like this. And he protested with lame 'no,' 'don't,' 'stop' as he kicked and struggled, practically thrashing in full blown hysteria.

But the persons that held on to him were so much stronger. And the question repeated itself:

_Do you like to watch?_

And suddenly he was back to that night, months ago---before Asuka had even arrived, when he had first moved in with Katsuragi. And he hadn't known of the older woman's involvement with her coworker; Ritsuko had come over one night for dinner and she had stayed after he had fallen asleep.

He couldn't have anticipated that when he woken later to get a glass of water---what sounds would emerge from the other's door on his way to the kitchen. And he stopped, hearing that first distinctive sound…

A whispery moan sounding in Misato's voice. And he had approached, cautiously; closer and closer, to hear labored breathing--the unfamiliar sound of women in heat, coming quietly at first, but amplifying in volume and intensity with each step towards her door.

She wasn't alone.

Why had he done it? Why then? With his eyes peering cautiously into the slightly open crack in her doorway; how he had violated the sanctity of another's privacy…

That betrayal of trust.

As he took in what was happening in front of him…

Their limbs intertwined.

A sheen where Misato's low ceiling lights reflected off the perspiration of her body…

And how they moved so purposely—so exquisitely—against each other in that futon in the middle of the room. Misato's fan left on next to them...

_Do you like to watch?_

His hand moved down—to that strained hardness. And he was a child; yes, true; but he knew of these matters; had only vaguely confronted them in intervals during his short life. And now, all of him—his guilty conscience --fought against what he was about to do: ears pressed against the door, cringing even while he stroked himself; masturbating…masturbating….furiously as he played with gratuitous voyeurism.

Sick. Sick. Sick--so sick as he came; that sicknesses coating his hand in white sticky globs.

***

_8 years ago_

_TOKYO UNIVERSITY_

Ritsuko was sick. For about a week now she moved about the house, about school, about everywhere, hacking and coughing her lungs out. And the poor thing had taken to bed early: barely late afternoon on a Saturday when she climbed back under the sheets to sleep off her fever.

So Misato went out, like a good roommate, to fetch Ritsuko some takeout. Chicken porridge, so that Ritsuko could actually eat something nourishing for once---she had been subsisting on water and can tomatoes soup. And Ritsuko might've been smart, a genius by all standards, but even she still fumbled occasionally when it came to simple task of taking care of herself.

And Misato helped, even if Ritsuko never asked.

_I can take of myself._

In those days, Misato hadn't purchased a car yet; university students seldom felt the need to. The only inconvenience came when they needed to travel in the rain, like Misato was attempting to do now---both hand on the handlebar of her bike while she maneuvered, with poncho and hood, back to their apartment.

Puddles and water slick on her bike's wheels made controlling her bike difficult; not to mention the added weight of the takeout in the front basket. Misato muttered—rain coming heavily around her. "She better appreciate this."

***

"Mmm…"

Ritsuko hummed a bit, content underneath the soothing hand that caressed itself against her cheek; her eyes closed and she sniffled—that runny nose had been plaguing her for the past three days. And she was settled so comfortably in her bed when the door burst open and Misato hustled in with the takeout; pulling of her hood and saying, "You wouldn't believe how fucken wet it is out there right now."

"Well I believe it."

Misato, who had been busy wringing the remaining rain water out of her hair—head down as soon as she entered, hadn't looked to see who was in the room besides Ritsuko; and she looked up, snapping to attention, when she heard that foreign voice.

What caught her next—simply put—floored her.

There, sitting next to Ritsuko's bed, was Naoko Akagi; the same Naoko who, just days ago, stood holding lecture at the university's main hall. _That_ Naoko Akagi.

"Oh my god…"

And she must've looked stricken, like someone who had just caught sight of a long adored celebrity; because she couldn't help staring now in wide, unabashed disbelief.

Naoko smiled and approached. "You must be my daughter's roommate. Misato, right?"

"Right…" Misato nodded along, dumbfounded as she shook Naoko's hand. Then she recalled: "Daughter…? Ritsuko's your daughter?"

Naoko again smiled, amused. "Can't you see the resemblance?"

"Uh…"

Back and forth. Eyes going back and forth between Ritsuko and Naoko. Naoko and Ritsuko. Then again until it became clear to her.

"Wow…I had no idea. Ritsuko never mentioned."

"I would've figured that," Naoko said, "I think it's because I never gave her a sibling to contend with so she's not good at those things.

"What things?"

"Sharing."

_Is that why she's so quiet?_

Ritsuko, whose head was still on her pillow—heavy, had been listening in to the conversation; that dull feverishness droning along with the words between the two women. She caught the last part enough to know she didn't like where their talk was heading. "Mother, shouldn't you be going now?" she asked, interrupting whatever questions Misato may have had.

"Hmm?" Naoko looked back at her daughter, and then at the time. "I suppose you're right."

She turned to Misato. "I trust you'll take care of her."

Misato could only nod again. She found it hard to speak—unusual, but considering it was Naoko she was speaking to, that wasn't the least surprising; how the words escaped her.

"There," Naoko continued, reassured by the other girl's presence, "I feel much better now. Thank you, Misato."

Misato shook her head. "It's no problem."

Naoko walked to where Ritsuko was and picked up the scarf that lay on the girl's blanket; and wrapped it around her neck; snug and warm, before she bent down and to kiss her daughter's forehead. "Mmm…I'm going then. Good night, honey."

"Mom."

With that—and a short nod to Misato, Naoko let herself out; a brief glance back to where Ristuko was before she shut the door behind her.

***

_Present._

Shinji's subconscious was a dreary place; festering and diseased; moist with neurosis like maggots squirming in collected pocket within rotten flesh.

_His breathing….heavy…heaving…._

As he let that sickness take him over, finding his hands curled in her short blond hair as she took him in her mouth. Her head bobbed up and down as she laved his shaft, coating it with saliva--spit; and she sucked, concentrating on the tip where precum was leaking out; as his hands encouraged the movement. Gentle pressure where all was involved.

It was a compulsion, he swore. He never wanted this--to sully their image, like he did before; like how he was doing now; his dick in her mouth as he used her to relieve himself.

And he needn't look to see the pair of eyes on him, its owner standing at a distant. She watched, those eyes narrowing in judgment and disgust as the woman pressed behind Shinji slid to join Ritsuko; both fussing over his erection.

He felt like crying, "Asuka, don't watch. Please..."

But he found his words choked and nonsensical; and Asuka, that imagined phantom standing in watch, could only clench her fists. He could feel her disgust as sharply as he felt his own. Backwash.

_Do you want to fuck me, Shinji?_

Misato bent over the coffee table in that desolate living room; her body naked as she offered herself to him on her hands and knees, while Ritsuko laid, spread eagled, underneath her; a lurid, yet fascinating display of sinful human flesh opened to him.

He didn't want to; but, again, that compulsion...it was his dream body, he would tell himself later. Godforsaken and involuntary as a twitch. And he knelt, mind still aghast, when he positioned himself against Misato's flushed sex. And he entered her, penetrating the suppleness...

That cumulated in an act of pure insanity; primal, primitive and without reason except in pursuit of release.

"Don't watch, Asuka," that wordless plea repeated itself while he fucked his guardian in maddening strokes, hearing Misato cry out; hands gripped on her hips to align her with his thrust. Again and again and again as orgasm built from the friction; the 'realness' of this dream coming through, pressure spiked from his groin through his spinal column.

And how he sullied her…

***

_8 years ago_

_TOKYO UNIVERSITY_

"You didn't tell me that Naoko Akagi is your mother! Do you know how huge that is?" Misato said, plopping herself down on Ritsuko's bed. She dropped the takeout on the nightstand; and the half-asleep girl stirred at the aroma of chicken adrift next to her.

"Would it make a difference? " Ritsuko asked, sitting up to undo the knot of the plastic bag holding what was so obviously food. Her cat, which was nestled atop the blanket by Ritsuko's side, was dumped in the movement; it hissed in annoyance at its owner while Ritsuko continued; "Whether or not she is my mother?"

"But she is. And..."

"What's this?" Ritsuko interrupted with a query; she looked up from the open bag.

"Oh, just some porridge--for your fever."

"Misato..." her brows crinkled, "you didn't have to…"

Misato shrugged. Really, it was no big deal. Sure--and here, she looked out the window, watching torrential rainfall splatter in droplets against the glass pane-- that trip in the rain as she swerved, barely avoiding several nasty slips, was a hassle; but she couldn't cook. Plus, she wanted to do something nice for Ritsuko: the girl who was coughing in front of her, bundled in decidedly endearing pajamas.

Misato slipped her feet under Ritsuko's covers, wanting for some warmth. "Eat it already. Before it gets cold."

"So," she began again when she saw Ritsuko hesitantly sip at the steaming soup in the Styrofoam cup. "You going to tell me why?"

_Why, what?_

Misato raised an eyebrow.

_Oh…_

"Like I said before, I don't think it would have made a difference." She blew on the soup affecting an air of casualness; as if she didn't care.

But for Misato…she was strangely perturbed by Ritsuko's reluctance to speak about her mother. She didn't know why it did, but it bothered her—that Ritsuko would keep secrets, especially after living together for so long. And she stuttered, somewhat weakly saying, "We could've gotten front row seats."

Ritsuko frowned. What could she say? How people thought first of her as Naoko's daughter, then second as anything else? She had avoided that recognition---the label that came along with her name as if it was a stigma. Inescapable. She resented; and she was tired…

So tired of living in her mother's shadows…

Perhaps she was being petty. Perhaps…but what did it matter except that these feelings were real.

"I'm serious, Misato."

_Don't ask, _was implied behind those words. It was Misato's turn to frown. "Hey," she said, crawling over to where Ritsuko was. "Hey," she said again, this time tilting Ritsuko's chin up and looking at her in concern. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Ritsuko's eyes--which were red and pinkish, another symptom of fever—widened at how boldly Misato did that—raising her chin up; that touch as if there was no boundaries or protocol between them. She disliked, with such sudden intensity, Misato's unwitting brazenness in that simple contact; and she swatted her hand brusquely away. "Don't touch me."

"What? What did I do?" she asked, flustered and hurt when Ritsuko turned away, her eyes narrow in annoyance.

"I just…I don't like it when you do that."

"Do what?"

_Come so close to me…_

"You---violate my personal space," Ritsuko said, conclusively. A little blunt; yes, true. But Ritsuko rarely, if ever, cut corners by sugar coating.

***

_Present_

She ran her hands underneath the fountain of water which poured forth from the sink's facet, cascading as she scrubbed intently…feeling as though she could wash her hands raw. Yet, no matter how hard she grinded her hands together, scrapping skin against skin, or how many times she cleaned, they remained—to her—inexplicably dirty.

"He was horrified," Ritsuko said as she related the incident back to her.

Misato glanced up, eyes directed forward as she studied her reflection in the mirror: if she let it, it'll probably overwhelm her; but she was just as sick…sick…sickened by this whole ordeal.

"I thought you should know," Ritsuko finished.

_And take into consideration…_

How Shinji had said her name in orgasmic bliss---

And how horrified he had been when he woke to find he had spilled all over himself; wet semen leaking through the fabric of his black school pants. He looked at her, then, stricken, like a gradeschool child caught soiling. Ritsuko was surprised at the incredible amount of pity she felt upon seeing that look---what she felt even now as she spoke to Misato. There was nothing, no power available in her reach that could've abated his humiliation.

"This development isn't surprising if you think about it," she commented, more to herself than for Misato's benefit, "Parental issues…he hates his father and probably yearns for closeness with his mother and during psychosexual development, he confuses the two ideas of intimacy. You showed him affection, acted as a maternal substitute and he's drawn to you. So I'm only really surprised by how we didn't catch onto this earlier."

_A closeted oedipal complex_, Misato mentally scoffed; who was she to talk? She only fucked a man who resembled her father. Shinji, so far, was much less guilty than she was. "It's easier if we think of them as children," she said, "Non-sexual entities like tools. But we forget…"

She turned to look Ritsuko, gaze unwavering as she stated, emphatically, "He's fourteen years old."

A young man.

Verging on adulthood…

She forgets sometimes how precarious that position was: stuck in between the limbo of adolescence and maturation. _Awkward and half formed._

And she dared ask, "Should he be removed from my care?"

"No. It would only damage him further if we did that. He'll know it's because of the session and he'll blame himself. I can see it as compounding to his humiliation."

"So that's the decision...."

"Yes."

Misato removed her hands from the sink and the sensors there detected absence enough for it to switch the facet flow of water to 'off.' And, somewhat unconsciously, she gripped the white cross which hung from her necklace, issuing a prayer to whatever God was listening if any listened at all. She prayed, "Please, please…let us know what were doing. Let it be right," for everyone's sake.

"And the tapes?" Misato asked, returning to the immediate concern.

"I already took care of them."

Ritsuko knew in a flash what decisions sub-commander Fuyutsuki and Commander Ikari would reach, and she had acted: as soon as Shinji left the room, Ritsuko stood up and pushed the stop on the recorder. Katz looked at her, wary; she asked him then to keep quiet. "Katz is a good friend—he'll cooperate even if he's reluctant to. I've already doubled over the tape with noise."

Misato looked visibly relieved when Ritsuko told her that. Official records will state that they found nothing in that session; nothing abnormal or unusual with the Third Child. And she'll get to keep Shinji…

She knew, looking at Ritsuko, that the other woman had acted for Misato's sake when she disobeyed direct orders---Ikari would've taken the young boy. And what she did--erasing that record--was a sneaky and dangerous maneuver; one that could've cost them both everything; but Misato was grateful.

Grateful to her for having taken that risk…

At this, she dropped the paper towel that she had balled up when she had finished drying her hands, and approached Ritsuko, so wordlessly, to press a kiss, hands moving up to caress and cup Ritsuko's face to hers; and so abrupt was that kiss that Ritsuko's eyes flew open in surprise. And Misato swallowed, almost greedily, the muffles of protests that sounded from Ritsuko---the door; Ritsuko glanced urgently to the door of the women's restroom.

Did she realize?—Ritsuko wondered if she understood…that at any moment those doors could swing opened and someone would enter and see…

And they certainly weren't locked; nor was the room secure enough to account for what Misato was doing now. But if she knew, she didn't care; and when Ritsuko's reached down to push against Misato's stomach—to push her away, Misato had just reacted by turning them sideways so that Ritsuko's back was towards the mirror and her hands gripped on the edge of the long counter of sinks in order to keep balance, while Misato pressed forward more forcefully.

And she didn't let up---didn't let up, until she elicited a soft sound from the other woman; drenched with desire and excitement; only backing off when she felt one of Ritsuko's legs lift to hook around her waist.

She parted, knowing that if she carried on she wouldn't be able to stop.

Her forehead leaned against Ritsuko as they both labored to catch their breath. And Misato caught something else---that look long enough in Ritsuko's eyes to tell her that she understood---what a strange way it was to say _thank you._

"I'll see you later," Misato said, finally letting Ritsuko go.

And Ritsuko managed a weak, "Bye," when the other woman turned to leave, and she kept watching long after Misato pushed through the restroom's doors to exit. In all that passed, Ritsuko allowed herself to wonder if she should have told her…

That Shinji had called out her name as well…

That she had sat, pale faced, as she heard his cries; her blood seemingly drained from her.

And she had proven her own weakness when she had all but unraveled just moments ago with Misato pressed to her.

"_The human animal is so amazingly pathetic,_" Ritsuko thought then, gripping again the edge of the counter in chagrin. _"Take away the shine of civilization and culture and this is what you have. And we try to forget…but our mind, our body---that subconscious—our nature betrays us."_

To be continued…

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

Finally finished! At least, with this chapter. This wasn't an easy to write mainly because I didn't want to alienate readers. But, again, I wouldn't have written this unless I felt it added or layered onto the story.

Before starting, I asked myself, "How would Shinji's psychosis manifest itself?"

And the answer immediately was: sex, duh.

That because, I think from Shinji's perspective, the concept of sex is something deeply disturbing. He's so fearful of intimacy and of getting close because there's always that imminent threat of violation; like rape.

I thought this quote from wikipedia regarding "original sin" was interesting:

"In Augustine's view (termed "Realism"), all of humanity was really present in Adam when he sinned, and therefore all have sinned. Original sin, according to Augustine, consists of the guilt of Adam which all human beings inherit. As sinners, human beings are utterly depraved in nature, lack the freedom to do good, and cannot respond to the will of God without divine grace."

Furthermore: "Augustine of Hippo taught that original sin was physically transmitted from parent to child through the concupiscence (roughly, lust) that accompanied sexual reproduction, weakening the will and making humanity a _massa damnata_[2] (mass of perdition, condemned crowd)."

That certainly fits in the world of Evangelion, and I wrote this chapter with this in mind.

As for the warning in the beginning, if you don't think a ménage à trios involving an underage minor is dark and disturbing then that's your thing. I, on the other, do find it VERY disturbing.

As usual:

Feedback is always welcome.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_Episode 20: Shape of Heart, Shape of Human_

*********

There was a spark; the air crackled, hissing as the match was struck, then raised to meet the end of the cigarette; and the lips it was held between drew back a breath; ashy tip glowed a small fiery red. And it tasted nasty—rather bland at times, but it eased her nerves. The wisp of stale smoke acting like a blanket wrapped in vapory breaths.

She looked up when the door opened and Misato entered; eyes traveling over Misato's standing figure in cool and detached appraisal before she looked away, affecting an air of indifference--as if this was expected.

_And it was…_

Misato frowned: there Ritsuko was, already sitting on the bed with her long legs slightly bent and crossed in front of her. Casual. Naked, except for that lit cigarette; and how she wished Ritsuko wouldn't smoke—at least, not before _this_. The 'cheap' smell had a way of ruining the mood; perhaps that was just the romantic in her complaining.

In any case, she doesn't vocalize her complaints; and slips off, instead, that flimsy robe that covered her for her small trek across the living room to her. She went, by habit, to sit with Ritsuko, sliding over to rest her head on the other's lap; lavender hair spilled, soft and airy, over the white of Ritsuko's thighs.

And she looked down at Misato in surprise when the other woman reached up to take the cigarette: "I thought you smoked afterwards."

"I would prefer to," Misato answered, painting an unbelievably seductive image as she laid plaint and relax on Ritsuko's lap; sharing that cigarette between them. White smoke trailed from those traitorous lips as she spoke. "Ne, Ritsuko," she began, passing the cigarette back to her.

"Hmm?"

"Am I like one of your cats?" she asked, in _that_ voice—the one that never ceased to send shiver's down Ritsuko's spine.

"What do you mean?"

"I meant…you know…"

"No."

Misato turned towards Ritsuko's stomach, fingers reaching to trace and dip into the other woman's belly button. Idle—just luxuriating in the _feel_ of touching Ritsuko so freely; that familiar excitement building in the pit of her stomach.

"Mmm…" Ritsuko bowed her head, eyes closing. She enjoyed the feeling of being touched as much as Misato was in touching.

"I mean," Misato clarified, "someone you take out when you're feeling lonely."

It was Ritsuko's turn to frown: "I don't have cats because I'm lonely."

But Misato ignored her—whatever protests to the contrary. She sat up and went to straddle Ritsuko, her legs parting licentiously on either side as she rested there. And she continued: "So you pet them, feed them…listen to them; and love them, because it gives _you_ pleasure." She punctuated every point with a light lick to the other's nose, imitating the way she'd seen Ritsuko's cats _lavish affection._

"Misato…" she started, "even if that was the case—which I assure you: it's not. Even if that was so, you mean more to me than any cat…" Ritsuko considered that statement; it was true, she did love those four legged creatures a whole damn lot; more so than she felt towards most people. Bipeds.

Was there something to say in that?

"Honest?" Misato asked. She rocked her hips slightly, her lips parting in a soft, whispery sigh. Vulnerable and yielding as she waited for Ritsuko's answer.

_Don't forsake me…_

Misato let the subject drop at Ritsuko's response, satisfied with her nod---however tentative. She needed to believe, if only for tonight: she took the cigarette from Ritsuko and snuffed it out in the ashtray next to them, before leaning back on Ritsuko, hair tossed cleaning over her shoulder when she asked: "Should I ride you?"

Ritsuko flushed at the bluntness of Misato's question, suddenly reminded of how comfortable Misato was with her sexuality--she had always been. And Ritsuko both envied and was thankful for that fact. When she didn't respond—struck with a sudden shyness, Misato took that sign as a yes and began to move; grinding herself against Ritsuko slowly. There was no rush. And Ritsuko sat absolutely still as she watched, heavy-lidded, while Misato moved, lightly panting with every controlled gyration. Misato spoke, in between every unsteady inhale and exhale: "I think…Shinji thinks…I'm shameless."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because…he's just come back and…I'm here…like this." Misato bit her bottom lip, grounding out and blushing as she considered, quite seriously, that shame.

Unpleasant memories had a way of coming back to her.

***

_Earlier that day_

_Post-Zeruel's, 14__th__ ANGEL, assault on the GEO-FRONT._

The words: PILOT VANISHED, flashed on the bottom of the screen that monitored EVA-01's entry plug. Flaring beeping noises came intermittently, accompanying the image of darken LCL, the coffin-like interior of the pilot seating area along with Shinji's plugsuit, which floated so eerily bereft of its owner.

"Shinji-kun!"

Misato watched with every horrific passing second that Shinji didn't materialize within that image: LIVE DIRECT CONNECTION. A 400% synchro-ratio—she didn't even think that was possible. And yet, here was proof. Irrefutable.

"He's been taken into EVA," Ritsuko said.

Of course, Misato had no clue what the hell that meant. "Just what is EVA?" she demanded. "Stop confusing me, Ritsuko!"

"I'm not trying to confuse you. I can only explain it as something created by man in Man's own image."

_The hell, it is! _"You didn't create anything! You just copied something you found in the Antarctic!" That much, Misato knew. She wasn't completely in the dark about EVA; and there was something so sinful in knowing that they were—essentially—borrowing the hands of their destroyer to save themselves. Now she needed to know the nature of those hands: "What was the original, Doctor? You tell me, what was it?"

"You're wrong. EVA's not merely a copy. A human will is inside it."

"Are you—are you saying that somebody willed this to happen?"

"No. EVA did."

And that was it.

In hindsight, she supposed that there was a strange sense of déjà vu to the moment when she struck Ritsuko; but she didn't care. She didn't care if they were alone or whether the entire theatre of NERV was watching—which they were. She didn't flinch. "Do something, damn you! You created this, didn't you? You take responsibility for it!"

And this time it was different; because this time it wasn't her fault.

Shinji hadn't vanished into some unknown. No. He had disappeared in what she had always assumed was the relative safety of his entry plug; a device of NERV's making. And there was so little room for forgiveness where Shinji's life was concerned. That NERV—that Ritsuko—was somehow complicit in all this, she couldn't forgive that.

Ritsuko stood there infuriatingly passive. Her eyes turned sideways in refusal to meet Misato's; and Misato could see, underneath the harsh and interrogative light of CENTRAL HQ, the shading of Ritsuko's face where Misato had slapped her: red and inflamed. And she knew then—felt her heart cry out to her the moment she raised her hand—that this was falling apart.

***

_Present_

"I don't think you're shameless, Misato," she said quietly; hands easing down on Misato's hips.

_That's the problem. You're too good. Unlike me…_

"Me-ow."

At the soft mewling, both women stopped; one of Ritsuko's cats—a spotted tabby, popped its head from under Misato's discarded robe. Its eyes shiny and ears pointed. Why hasn't they noticed before? "Hey, how did you get there?" its owner asked. Misato didn't wait to be told; she dismounted over the side so that Ritsuko could get up…

And she watched as Ritsuko walked over to pull the robe aside and tuck a hand underneath the tabby's tummy, cooing, "Here, here, you. Come here."

"Me-ow," it sounded again with its little sharp teeth showing as it laid cradled in Ritsuko's arm; she kissed its forehead—its nose twitched in response—before going to let it out the room. And Misato thought then, rolling over and stretching, "_Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad…being her cat…"_

***

_Late Evening. A few hours earlier._

Ritsuko leaned her cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window. A cursory glance outside told her that she was looking at trees; people; the lights of TOKYO-3, the neon-lit city whose predecessors lie in ruins not far from here. But all that passed by her in a mirage of indistinct lines: advertisement in bright sapphire colors and traffic lights flashing yellow, red, green…

In the end Shinji had come back, and that was what mattered.

Still, she was surprised to find Misato waiting for her by the elevator. Ritsuko had planned on taking the monorail home, as usual; but Misato was there, and she looked at her; "I'm sorry. About hitting you like that. I—I was out of line," she said, voice trying hard not to sound hollow; that vague hint of coldness still lingering behind her eyes.

"No," Ritsuko said, "don't apologize."

_I deserved it._

She could see Misato cringe—ever so slightly; but to who it was directed? She couldn't tell. Was it at Misato…or herself? In any case, she stepped pass Misato, only to be surprised again when she was inside the elevator; Misato had reached out to keep the doors from closing. "Let me give you a ride home," the other woman offered.

And Ritsuko didn't say no.

So here they were…seated in Misato's car. Radio noise canceled the awkward silence between them. Ritsuko was starting to wonder why she had accepted this ride; it was hard not to hear Misato's voice echo in her head: _"You heartless bitch!"_

She broke the silence: "Unit 01 will be restored in two days."

The hand that gripped the steering wheel suddenly tightened, and Misato spoke with sardonic contempt when she noted, "Even when given divine powers, humans still treat it as a matter of fact."

"I can hardly agree…"

What else can she say? Where can she tread without provoking the other woman? Maybe…something else…she continued: "Speaking of which, the committee is considering freezing EVA."

Misato sat silent. Eyes forward when the light turned green. "Well, I'm just glad Shinji was saved." "That wasn't me. That was probably you…" she said, taking into consideration that there were just some things science couldn't account for. Was this the 'miracle' of faith? Of love? Certainly of the _why_ he had come back…

The salvage operation had failed: they couldn't reconstitute his physical body let alone find a soul to attach it. And no one there could've explained how a boy so shy of life had literally willed himself back into being. Nothing could explain it; nothing short of a miracle---that affliction of love…

"Let's go out tonight—to a bar or somewhere."

After a long moment of silence spanning the space of a decision, Misato responded, "Drinking sounds nice. But I don't feel like going to a bar tonight."

"Well, I'm sure you have liquor at your place."

That not-so-subtle reference about her lifestyle bought about a small smile on Misato's face—she couldn't help it; despite how tense she was…how tense they both were. "The kids are home."

"I see…"

What was it besides that thought in the back of her head? _If they could just pretend like nothing was wrong…_

And all the reasons she wanted to say 'yes' (because she wanted to), and all the reasons she should've said 'no' (Shinji's just materialized from the dead)…

But what choice was there when it came to _her_, really? And if she was honest with herself, she would admit that she needed this. Just to be selfish.

Just for one night.

Misato glanced over—out of the corner of her eyes, hoping that Ritsuko caught on; but the other woman gave no indication that she had. Instead, she looked again to the view outside the window, as if suddenly aware of the world existing beyond the interior of Misato's Renoult Alpine; and she thought wistfully, "Shame she doesn't want to go to a bar. It's a nice night out."

And Misato didn't know---didn't realize how badly she had wanted to hear Ritsuko say, "Yes," until she felt her heart drop at Ritsuko's silence…

That was all before Ritsuko answered her: "Let's stop by the store then. We'll head over to my place afterwards."

***

_Present_

Ritsuko rolled them over so that Misato was on her back, stretching fully underneath her; and Misato loses her train of thought when Ritsuko follows that with a kiss, tongue parting the other's lips to slide in to meet hers. And it was one of those kisses, placed with such careful tenderness, that Misato forgets how to breathe---it spoke of ceaseless nights; spoke of volumes upon volumes of love ever experienced between them or ever will be…

And she didn't know why then, but it—that kiss, Ritsuko pressed so impossibly close to her (melding, it seemed)—brought about so profound a sadness that she chokes on the yearning, as if…as if…

She'd never see her again.

A whimper came from the back of her throat, and her eyes squeezed shut; so that even while the kiss continued, she found herself wishing, hoping that this—_this_ contact—would never end. Not caring if it suffocated her.

It had come to this: such uncertainty that there would be another chance for them; and if she'd admit it, it would tear her apart--like it was doing now. _All the secrets and lies…_

Ritsuko raised her head, wanting to part to give them room to breathe; but Misato had followed, nails digging painfully into the flesh of Ritsuko's shoulder. _Stay with me, _she wordlessly begged. _Stay with me, _again, she pleaded.

Ritsuko reacted: she grabbed both hands, tearing them away from her shoulder to pin Misato to the bed, and then used her weight to keep her there; fingers locked and intertwined. Misato became vaguely aware of something in her right hand…something that Ritsuko was pressing in her palm—circular and small.

"Mmmm…" her eyes shifted under the intoxicating allure of Ritsuko's tongue working on hers to where her hand was, running fingertips over fingertips. And when Ritsuko let go, she could make out what she was holding. "Ka—Kaji's?"

"You wanted answers."

Those green, green eyes that stared down at her lovingly---they gave away nothing.

_This is all I can do for you, Misato._

***

Kaji dropped down to the floor from the ventilation shaft. A crappy way to make an entrance, he knows; but considering the amount of security he had to bypass to get here…well…

A fair exchange, he figured. It had taken him months, numerous wrangling, favors pulled—to arrive at this point. The MAGI's monitoring system in this section of HQ had been momentarily handicapped, and it bought him enough time to see for himself exactly _what_ Commander Ikari was hiding down in the metallic bowels of NERV.

He approached the massive sealed doors—at least five times the height of an adult male, and the cynical part of him scoffed. What purpose was there to build a door this tall and grand except as an ostentatious showing? Another concession to mankind's arrogance.

_Heaven's door_, indeed.

Whistling, he pulled a forged clearance card from his pocket and spun it in his hand in his characteristically overconfident way, before reaching over to pass it through the card scanner…

_Click-_

He stopped and steeled when he felt the round end of a gun press to the back of his head following that sound: the hammer was already cocked. Then he breathed in deeply before a half smile formed on his face, somehow already knowing who was there. "Did _she_ send you?"

"She let it slip," voice answering as Misato kept her eyes (and her gun) trained on Kaji---both remained remarkably steady and calm; even as Misato's right index finger kept a 'barely there' pressure on the trigger.

"I see…"

Kaji had to hand it to Ritsuko: arranging for a meeting in such a way as to dispense of all covers. The woman was certainly someone to contend with. _"No wonder she chose today," _he thought, recalling how it was she who came to him, offering to work through the MAGI to fix this window of opportunity. Of course, nothing came for free anymore, and he found the strings attached to the person behind him.

"We play and we play and we play each other," he thought of the circular nature of these things.

"It seems like a lot of NERV employees are working overtime these days," she began, "but few have enough skills to pull off living two lives, let alone three."

Kaji smirked at what he deemed a small accomplishment as Misato continued, "There's the Kaji of NERV, the Kaji of SEELE, and the Kaji that works for the Japanese government. Tell me, which Kaji am I addressing now?"

"Whichever one will get me in less trouble."

"Clever answer---but not the one I'm looking for. First, how does Ritsuko know you're a triple agent?"

"Mmph," Kaji made a small sound—the only indication of the displeasure he felt when Misato pressed the gun harder against the back of his head; literally pressing her point. "She didn't tell you?" he asked, changing from annoyance to amusement at the thought.

"I didn't ask."

Kaji looked ahead. _Of course. _"Quid pro quo, Misato," he summed up, then clarified: "NERV—_her_ included—well, they have a use for me so they keep me around, pretend I don't see the things I do so long as it serves their purposes. We all know the name of the game even if no one says it aloud."

"So that's what it is, huh? You're a spy," she said. "Really, Kaji, I expected more from you."

His eyes narrowed. _We all do what we have to…_

The world wasn't so black and white anymore, and he told her: "Don't be naïve." In flash--quicker than she could blink, Kaji had spun unexpectedly around in a blur of motion to smack the gun downwards—away from him as and he held onto her wrist; both wrists. Firm and in control.

It had gone off—_Click, _when he surprised her…

And the bullet would've ricocheted off the hard floor or, at the very least, caused a small dent where they stood…if only the gun had been loaded. _No bullets, _Kaji thought, feeling a weight lift from his heart even as she struggled. Only empty threats.

"Let go of me!" she growled, pulling away from him. But he was much bigger than her and she had lost the advantage of her bluff.

"What do you want?" he demanded, face close to hers; closer than they have been in years. The steel grayness of his eyes penetrated through her now as they did back then; and it caught her off guard…long enough for any fight left in her to drain away till she stood still, staring back at him…

She found her voice at last to make a request: "Tell me."

He smiled—they finally understood each other; "I'll be frank, either she doesn't know as much as we think she does or she's going along with it for personal reasons."

"Such as...?"

"I'm not sure yet. But you have to ask yourself, Misato, honestly: how much do you know about her? Her past?"

"I…" Misato found herself unable to answer. Ritsuko was a secretive person by nature; she knew that--had always known and accepted it from very start of their relationship. But face with the truth, confronted and unable to look away from Kaji, Misato found herself shrinking from the enormity of what little she knew about Ritsuko. More than shame; it was heartbreak.

And Kaji could feel the rise of emotion from her along with an unremitting sting of sympathy from him. He softened. "We both know so little…"

Misato raised her eyes to regard him, and, at that moment, his expression changed: that small confident smile again, eyes sharp and sure; "But," he said, "we can change that."

"Kaji!"

When he let her go, she instinctively went to aim her gun, even without bullets—it was instinct. But she could only watch helpless as if the momentum of her life was torn from her at that moment; speeding faster and faster, hurdling towards the future when he ran the clearance card through the reader. The twin mechanical doors—HEAVEN'S DOOR—separating as soon as the scanner flashed from red to green: entrance accepted.

"Adam?!"

She couldn't believe it. Almost wouldn't believe it. But there--

Fixed on a cross of red that waded in a sea of--what she can only assume was LCL--was the Giant, white and blubbery and torn from its legs; all that remained was the torso, arm, and purpled-masked head. Both palms nailed on either side so that it was spread wide like so: a giant parody of a Christ at crucifixion.

"_Blood," Misat_o cringed, "_I smell blood." _So much of it saturated everywhere that she could almost taste the sticky metallic of it in her mouth. And Kaji, who stood by her side the entire time, could only look on. Nothing here shocked him; it only confirmed what he believed. And, strangely enough, seeing the Giant left him with feeling akin to satisfaction, as if validating all his work thus far.

_No, not Adam. _He told her: "Not quite."

***

_Earlier_

"_It's unfortunate," _Ritsuko had told her; "_that all we have to talk about now is work."_

Misato tried to brush it off in a joking manner; after all, when your job is involves saving the world, there's a lot to talk about.

_"I just wished we didn't have to."_

Misato tucked the cat broach in her pocket—the broach Ritsuko had given her on the night those words were spoken; and they haunted her—those words, like all words spoken at the end of things: they had a way of finding her in the silence. She stood in the empty corridors of NERV. 4 a.m. And any moment now, he would arrive.

And she knew Ritsuko wouldn't—couldn't tell her: we all have our crosses to carry—this was Ritsuko's.

But if Misato had somehow managed to discover on her own…

That thought was more bearable.

And when Ritsuko brushed her nose against the nape of Misato's neck that night, both knew that whatever future they could've had together, Ritsuko willingly forfeited: she had clasped the broach in Misato's hand and given it away…

_Because she couldn't lie anymore. _

And it was a clue—that Kaji would be able to help her find those secrets. The question was: could Misato forgive her after she did find out?

"_Probably not," _Misato doubted. They understood each other well enough to know that much; which would explain, partly, Ritsuko's silence...

Sadness, they say, had a way of wrapping around your entire being—choking you; but Misato couldn't understand why the tears didn't come. In any case, she kept it to herself (there just wasn't time enough to wonder) and checked her watch, then contemplated—for the second time—whether or not she should load the pistol she was holding in her left hand. But again, she made no reach for the cartridge she kept by her side.

A few feet ahead of her, from above, she could hear thumping sounds coming from the vent shaft--Misato pushed her back off the wall she was leaning on. He had arrived.

To be continued…

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

There was so many ways this could've gone—it took me 5 rewrites to get the exact mood and flow right. I had such a hard time trying to convey that Ritsuko wanted Misato to know, but at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to tell her; hence the broach. _Why?_ Because she doesn't want to lie, but at the same time, she knows that this secret could tear them apart; render them asunder; what have you…

And I wrestled with all complexities of Ritsuko's feelings in this regard and tried to funnel all those abstracts down into words. I don't know if I did very well. Ritsuko has her reasons and they aren't just because she wants to make it hard for Misato.

I wanted to tie the three characters together in a way that remained truthful to the NGE continuity—sure, Misato could've found out that Kaji's a spy on her own, but I think it's much more INTERESTING that she learned of it from Ritsuko.

Just as an additional: I considered ending this chapter in a sex scene, but (after those rewrites) I could never get it right—like it just didn't belong somehow. It's much better this way.

Feedback is always welcome.


End file.
